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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27457609">feeling borrowed, always blue</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsegoodnight/pseuds/falsegoodnight'>falsegoodnight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Direction (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(not h/l), Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Louis, Coercion/Manipulation, Exes to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fashion Designer Louis Tomlinson, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of miscarriage, Mpreg, Mpreg Louis, No cheating, Panic Attacks, Pining, Protective Harry, Shotgun Wedding, Top Harry, Wedding Planner Harry Styles, doesn't actually happen!, not between hl ofc</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:13:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>68,214</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27457609</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsegoodnight/pseuds/falsegoodnight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis’ own heartbeat picks up, eyes widening right as Dr. Zoyansky hits a button and the unsteady pattern of thumps echoes into the room. His breathing hitches, eyes watering as the rhythm seeps into his insides and reverberates in his mind. A <i>heartbeat.</i></p><p>He doesn’t register the tears at first, eyes fixed to the screen and vision blurring. </p><p>The situation seems insane. Here he is, twenty-four years old, sitting in the examination chair and listening to the heartbeat of his future child, clutching the worn material of his changing gown with pale fingers, one of which is weighed down by a gaudy engagement ring.</p><p>And most noticeably - he’s entirely alone. It’s just him in the room with his doctor, experiencing one of the most groundbreaking, <i>life-changing</i> moments of his entire life and he’s all alone. </p><p>-</p><p>Or, Louis has been dreaming of his wedding since he was young - he just never expected it to happen like this.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Louis Tomlinson/Original Male Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>248</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>810</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bottom Louis Fic Fest 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. something old</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">

        <li>
          Translation into Italiano available: 
            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30701123">Feeling borrowed, always blue</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/FMelodyCassiel/pseuds/FMelodyCassiel">FMelodyCassiel</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/FMelodyCassiel/pseuds/HarryandLoukissingunderatree">HarryandLoukissingunderatree (FMelodyCassiel)</a>
        </li>


    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><b><i>Additional Warnings:</i></b> This fic is completely fiction and contains inaccuracies about contracts, agreements, and other legal proceedings in it for the sake of the story. It's not meant to represent real life people or events, nor exhibit any of my personal opinions on anything in real life, especially relating to the aforementioned contract details. It's all meant to be fiction and serve the story so please suspend your disbelief.</p><p>For the <b>miscarriage</b> warnings: it doesn't actually occur but there is a scene where Louis is experiencing those common signs and considers the possibility quite seriously (this scene also contains the singular panic attack!) and though it ends up being a false alarm, it may still be triggering so make sure to prioritize your own mental health when considering to read it! If you have any questions, feel free to reach out to me on <a href="https://twitter.com/falsegoodnight">twitter</a> or <a href="http://falsegoodnight.tumblr.com">tumblr</a> to ask! </p><p>And I don't want to give too much away but coercion/manipulation from an employer to employee does play a big role in this fic! It relates to the aforementioned contract/agreement and is referenced frequently throughout the story so also keep that in mind. Again, please feel free to ask any questions. </p><p>There is a small instance of dub/non con where Louis is kissed without his consent - the two characters involved are in a fake relationship and the action was meant to sell the relationship, but Louis didn't know about it beforehand so keep that in mind! This doesn't occur until the second chapter and I'll leave another note in that chapter's notes to tell you exactly where you can skip that part (it's very small) if you want to! Also, there is mentions of two characters sleeping together while <i>both</i> under the influence (though it was still consensual!) Again, if you have any questions, feel free to ask!</p><p>This fic was a labor of love from beginning to end and I'm so happy to have gotten to write it for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Thank you to the mods for running this fest so wonderfully and for being so accommodating and helpful! And of course, a big thank you to whoever submitted this prompt (I hope you don't mind mpreg!) which I've fallen in love with! I hope I did it justice!</p><p>And of course, thank you Chelsea (the biggest fan of this fic from the very beginning &lt;3) and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/soldouthaz/pseuds/soldouthaz">Sarah</a> for reading this over for me and encouraging me every step of the way and also Jem (you weren't officially editing when you read it over but you still caught some embarrassing typos). A big thank you to Hayley, Alex, and Emily, as well. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys &lt;33</p><p>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sweet syrupy taste of Louis’ iced tea slides down his throat uncomfortably as he takes another sip. He wasn't planning on ordering any drink initially, but he needed something to distract himself as he stares at the entrance to the restaurant from his table for two. </p><p>Waiting. </p><p>For the dozenth time, he taps on his phone, illuminating the screen to reveal that only a minute has gone by. He swallows nervously, fidgeting with his sweater sleeves which he has pulled to cover his fingers like he always does whenever he needs a source of comfort. </p><p>He shouldn’t be this nervous, in theory. It’s just <em> lunch</em>, lunch with his best friend in the entire world whom he hasn’t seen in over two months due to his trip to Spain as the exhibit coordinator for a travelling art gallery all across Europe. Louis knows that soon Zayn will have to leave again to Italy, but he’s hoping that those dates won’t conflict with what he’s about to reveal. </p><p>Taking another sip of the drink, his anxious fingers tap the table obsessively. He ignores the weight of something extra on his ring finger. He doesn’t want to look at it right now - not when he knows he’s going to have to show it off in just mere minutes. Well, mere minutes if Zayn actually shows up on time. </p><p>As if his pessimistic thoughts summoned him, a familiar head of dark hair flops down into the chair across him with a grin. Louis jumps, taken aback. </p><p>“Where the fuck did you come from?” he asks, eyes wide. He had been watching the entrance for the past ten minutes and there’s no way Zayn got past his panicked observing. </p><p>“There’s a side entrance, babe," Zayn says, shrugging. However, he straightens up fast, brows drawing together. "The real question is: where the fuck did <em> that </em>come from?” He points to Louis’ ring-clad hand, and Louis freezes. So much for working up to it. </p><p>Louis forces himself to smile, lips stretching awkwardly as he does his best to appear overjoyed and blissful. Zayn’s confused look in reply tells him he needs to work on it. “I’m engaged,” he announces, slathering the words with excitement as he peers at him nervously. </p><p>His friend stares at him in disbelief.</p><p>“Surprise!” Louis continues, waving his hands for emphasis. He internally winces, he <em> really </em>needs to get better at this especially when it comes time to tell his parents and siblings. His mum especially is going to be difficult to fool. </p><p>“How?” is ultimately Zayn’s disbelieving response. He looks shocked, floundering for words. </p><p>Louis huffs. “I hope that means, ‘How did it happen? Oh my god, I’m so happy for you!’ and not, ‘How did you finally trick someone into proposing!’ If not, we’re going to have problems.” It’s an ill attempt at humor but he needs to lighten the sudden influx of tension that his announcement evoked. </p><p>“I’m just -” Zayn breaks off, shaking his head in barely concealed bewilderment. “When did this happen?”</p><p>He grins, lips stretching awkwardly. “Six days ago! So don’t worry, I haven’t been keeping it that much a secret.”</p><p>“Who?” is Zayn’s next question, and even though it's completely logical, Louis' heart starts racing, hands suddenly clammy. “When the fuck did you start seeing someone?”</p><p>“Dean," Louis says as normally as he can muster. "I've mentioned him before, remember?" </p><p>Zayn raises an eyebrow right as the waiter returns - an overly-enthusiastic server with a toothy smile.</p><p>“Ah, so you’re both here now. Can I get you a drink, sir?” he asks Zayn. </p><p>“Um, I’ll just take what -” He stops abruptly, eyes narrowed at Louis’ glass. He blinks, confusion in his eyes. “What is that?”</p><p>“Iced tea,” Louis says, shrugging. </p><p>Zayn gives him a weird look. Louis can't blame him. It's way out of his usual choices. “Never mind," he says, eyes flicking back to the drink with a frown on his face before he looks at the waiter again, "Can I get a bottle of White Castle Pinot Noir? Thank you.”</p><p>The waiter nods, telling them he’ll be back in a minute with the glass and for their orders. Louis picks up his menu, skimming it over and trying to ignore the feeling of Zayn glancing at him every few seconds as he picks up his own. </p><p>“Dean, as in Dean Cartier?” he says eventually, and Louis resists the urge to cringe as he meets his disbelieving gaze. “The son of your <em> boss - </em>that Dean?”</p><p>He nods, pursing his lips. “Surprise!” he repeats after a moment, hoping it doesn't come out as flat as he feels. </p><p>“How the fuck?” Zayn asks immediately. </p><p>“It just happened so fast,” Louis says helplessly. “And then he asked and I said yes, because I love him and I can genuinely see us spending the rest of our lives together… Was it fast? Hell yes, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.” It all comes out in a rush, empathetic and genuine and with a flicker of giddiness just for kicks. Louis ignores how the lies feel like sandpaper on his tongue. </p><p>God, he can’t believe he’s resorted to <em> lying </em>to his best friend. </p><p>“Really?” says Zayn disbelievingly. “I mean, no offense, Lou, but…”</p><p>Despite his words, Louis still bristles. “What?” he presses, defensive. </p><p>Zayn shakes his head. “I… Why have you never mentioned him? How much do you know about this guy?” He gestures to Louis’ ring. “And what is <em> that </em>?” Louis glances down at the gold band and its ridiculously large jewel. </p><p>“My engagement ring?” he says. </p><p>“It’s so… over-the-top,” Zayn says slowly, looking hesitant. “Nothing like those rings you have saved on your wedding Pinterest board.”</p><p>He sours, not wanting a reminder of his longest hobby. “Well, it’s not like I’m the one to choose the ring, dumbass.”</p><p>“But if he knows you at all, he’d know that,” Zayn implores. “How well do you guys know each other?” </p><p>“We know each other really well,” Louis insists. He channels his best hurt face and blinks rapidly, pouting. “Why aren’t you happy for me? I literally invited you here so I can tell my <em> best friend </em>that I’m getting married to the love of my life,” he has to pause there to force himself to maintain self control. “And to ask said best friend if he’ll be his best man, but instead that best friend is interrogating him!” </p><p>Zayn softens, standing up and coming around to offer his wide open arms for a hug. Louis pouts but gives in, letting Zayn squeeze him almost to death. “Of course I’ll be your best man, babe. I’m sorry for being a dick. I only want what’s best for you and if you love him, then I’m happy for you.”</p><p>Unable to think up a proper response, Louis just nods, throat dry. </p><p>“I can’t wait to meet him too,” Zayn adds. “Must be pretty special to be the first guy to genuinely catch your eye since…” He trails off but they both know what he means. “And not only that but to win you over so much that you’re already getting married!? How long have you been together?”</p><p>“We met at that party seven months ago, remember? And we’ve just been seeing each other casually ever since. It wasn’t exclusive or serious for the longest until we realized we both wanted more and everything was just perfect from then on,” Louis explains, sprinkling some fondness in his words. “He told me he didn’t want to wait any longer to get married and I agreed which is why we’re going to get married as soon as possible. God, I just love him so much, Z. I can’t wait for you to meet him either.” So many lies. </p><p>As if the universe wants to taunt him, his phone rings right then, flashing with the contact name: <b>Dean.</b> He stands up, smoothing out the material of his shirt. “I have to take this, Dean’s probably getting back to me about the venue,” he explains, giving Zayn an apologetic smile as he slides the button to answer. </p><p>Zayn nods, shooing him off. Louis walks in the direction of the bathroom, chirping a sarcastic, “Hello, dear!” </p><p>Dean sighs on the other end. “Hey, honey.” It comes out sharp, though Louis didn't expect anything other. “Did you tell your friend?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Louis says, sighing out loud. He can't believe he just lied to Zayn - that this is technically only the beginning. “What happened with the venue?”</p><p>“Mum and Dad pulled a few strings and booked the Dorchester, May 16th,” Dean says. <em>May 16th. </em>Today is April 12th so it’s just a little over a month of time, of <em> freedom</em>. He doesn't even want to know how they managed to reserve a venue in such short time but he can't be surprised. It's the Cartiers, after all. </p><p>But the <em> Dorchester, </em>holy shit. One of the most prestigious wedding venues in all of London, and Louis is now officially getting married there - under different circumstances, he'd be swooning at the thought. Instead, he feels a bit nauseous, squeezing his eyes shut to gather himself. “Okay, great,” he says after a beat, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Anything else?”</p><p>“Mum and Dad hired the wedding planner too, supposedly the best one in London,” Dean explains. “And he says he’s up to the challenge of our quick timeline and he thinks we’ll be able to pull it off. We’re going to meet him in three days.” </p><p>“Sounds good, just tell me the time and place,” Louis replies, eager to end the conversation. Every second of Dean’s voice in his head is just another reminder of how quickly everything is unravelling, slipping out of his grasp too fast for him to recover or mourn. "Anything else?" </p><p>“You have an appointment the day after tomorrow right?”</p><p>“Oh, yeah,” Louis breathes. When no further reply follows, he sighs, pressing a hand to his stomach forlornly. It’s a long shot that Dean would offer to attend, but it still hurts, regardless of Louis’ lack of feelings for him. He just never thought he'd be going through something as big as this by himself, and yet here he is. </p><p>“Okay, glad that everything’s sorted,” Dean says. “Bye, Louis.” </p><p>“Bye, Dean,” Louis whispers as the line goes dead. He stands there for an entire minute, staring blankly at the cream wallpaper of the bathroom and blinking scatteredly. </p><p>Zayn is eating a salad when he returns. Louis opens his mouth to ask where and how he got it, but decides against it. “We got the venue,” he announces instead, pasting a giddy smile on his face. </p><p>“Damn, already?” Zayn asks. “When is it?” He takes a bite of the salad. </p><p>“May 16th,” Louis reveals.</p><p>Zayn chokes on his romaine, eyes bugging out. <em>“May 16th?</em> But that’s only a month away!”</p><p>Louis maintains his calm, shrugging nonchalantly. “I told you, we don’t want to wait.” </p><p>“But… how the fuck are you going to plan a wedding in a <em> month</em>?” Zayn asks, mystified. </p><p>“Dean’s family is being so generous and offering to finance most of it,” says Louis, pasting on some awe and affection in his voice. “And apparently our wedding planner is the best in London so…” He shrugs again. “To be honest, I don’t mind that much. I just really want to marry him as soon as I can.” The bitterness in those words is something he just barely manages to conceal.</p><p>“Now I know it’s <em> really </em>serious,” Zayn says, sounding impressed. “For as long as I’ve known you, I’ve also known how much time you spend imagining and planning your dream wedding and for you to not care? Damn, you must really love him.” </p><p>He's right. Louis has been dreaming of his wedding since he was young - he just never expected it to happen like this. </p><p>In that vein, Zayn is right, but also very wrong. It's not love between Louis and Dean and it’s not love driving their impending marriage, definitely not. It's something a lot more complicated and a lot more consequential. </p><p>“What pasta should I get?” Louis asks abruptly, changing the subject. </p><p>Zayn skims the menu, humming thoughtfully. "Let me see." </p><p>Louis fidgets with his ring, sighing as the obnoxiously large jewel flashes in the light. One month until he’s gained everything he’s ever dreamed about, while losing everything he once believed to be most important. </p><p class="p1">❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>Louis wakes up in a cold sweat, body heaving as he gasps out into the still room. His fingers are trembling as they clutch the sheets desperately. He squeezes his eyes shut, breathing in shakily and then out. In and out. In and out. </p><p>When his breaths even out, he slowly sits up. His head throbs excruciatingly: another migraine. He slides out of the bed and onto the floor, the hardwood cool beneath his bare feet. Rubbing his temples, he slumps in place, body swaying from dizziness. </p><p>His stomach twists uncomfortably, nausea rising inside him and clawing up his throat.</p><p><em> Great</em>, he thinks. A glance at the bedside clock confirms its four in the morning, the dim light from sunrise shining in from the open window and casting a low glow over his tangled sheets. </p><p>He waits a bit longer to see if it’s a false alarm, but the nausea only grows. Moments later he’s in the bathroom, knelt before the toilet and heaving dangerously. It feels like his insides are shuddering along with his body, convulsing and spasming in revulsion. </p><p>The rancid taste lingering in his mouth is too disgusting to tolerate, so he tilts his head under the faucet and opens his mouth, letting the cool water wash away the taste and the pain. He’s still shaking, fingers quivering as he turns off the sink and feet stumbling as he creeps back into the bedroom. </p><p>He stops abruptly in the doorway, staring wordlessly at his messy bed. The imprint of his body on the left side of the bed where he normally lays curled up during the night is unmistakable. It looks so small in the sea of gray fabric. The sight sends a jolt of sadness through him. In a month he’ll be married, yet he’s still sleeping alone. </p><p>Before he knows it, his eyes are watering. He lets out a choked sob, body hunching over as he grips the doorframe to prevent himself from tipping over completely. Tremors wrack his fragile limbs, lungs seeming to shrink with every fluttery breath. This isn't the first time Louis has cried in the past week - hell, not even the first time in the last twelve hours. He cried just before bed after breaking the news of his engagement to his parents and siblings. </p><p>It had been an interesting experience - their weekly facetime call in which Louis blurted the news immediately, unable to hold it in through their usual small talk. The looks of shock and confusion on the faces of his mother and sisters and step dad had been a sight to witness, but Louis just pasted on a smile and answered their questions. </p><p>In the end, they all congratulated them, making sure to share their gratitude to the Cartiers for offering to fund their travel and lodging at the Dorchester. “They’ve been so generous,” Louis had praised. “So kind and amazing to Dean and I. They’re doing everything they can to help us get married as soon as possible because they know how much we don’t want to wait.” </p><p>He had honestly expected some more suspicion and backlash from them like what he received from Zayn, but that’s not what happened - his family were entirely understanding and overjoyed for Louis. It made his heart ache because he always knew they’d support him unconditionally (even if it meant marrying someone after a 'whirlwind' romance) but seeing it in this situation is excruciating.</p><p>He ended the call by promising to talk to them soon, lips pursed to prevent himself from blurting out everything he wanted to say but wasn’t allowed to. </p><p>The tears came as an immediate reaction. </p><p>And now here he is again, crying on the floor with his knees pulled to his chest protectively. There’s no hope in him trying to sleep again since his mind has awoken ages ago, swirling with thoughts and worries and fears and pain and regret. </p><p>It’s a long time before Louis gathers the strength to pull himself off the floor, and when he does, he immediately collapses onto the bed when he sees the reminder on his phone to call Perrie, Leigh-Anne, Jesy, and Jade to tell them the news and then ask them to be his “groomswomen.”  </p><p>And god knows who else he’ll have to tell in the coming days: Liam (who he’ll also ask to be his best man), Bebe (another groomswoman), and Steve from work when he goes in later that day to work on the Spring line, his other friends he’s met in the fashion world, his extended family, and his neighbors…</p><p><em> It’s going to be a long day</em>, he thinks. </p><p>And an even longer month. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>“Louis Tomlinson?” the receptionist calls, smiling when they make eye contact.</p><p>Louis stands up, swaying a bit from his acute dizziness. He skipped breakfast earlier that morning because the thought of swallowing food made him feel even more nauseous than he already felt.</p><p>He follows the lady to the room where his ob-gyn specialist, Dr. Zoyansky, will see him. The coolness of the examination chair seeps through his thin cotton pants and elicits a shiver.</p><p>Dr. Zoyansky, an intimidatingly put-together woman, strides into the room and offers him a thin, red-lipped smile. “Mr. Tomlinson, is it just you today?”</p><p>Louis nods timidly. “My fiancé is working,” he lies, insides turning. <em> Not that it makes much of a difference, </em>he thinks bitterly as he recalls their last meeting (an introductory appointment) when Dean accompanied him but remained completely silent and brooding the entire time. Well, he was silent until it came time to pull out the stack of forms and hand it to a very bewildered Dr. Zoyansky.</p><p>He never would have imagined that his first visit to the doctor’s as an expecting patient would involve signing a non-disclosure agreement. </p><p>Then again, he never expected any of this. </p><p>“Today will be a longer appointment since it’s the first official prenatal visit. The next ones will go a lot quicker but we need to set some things in stone first,” she explains. He nods in acknowledgement. </p><p>Dr. Zoyansky goes over the forms he filled out online a couple days ago about his past medical history, asking questions which Louis answers diligently. Then she goes through the typical questions about his diet and whether he’s been taking vitamins. Louis admits timidly that he’s been forgetting more often than not. He brushes off the questions about his sleep habits, ignoring the pointed look the lady sends towards his dark eyebags. </p><p>He’ll have to cover those up with some concealer next time. </p><p>Then he’s being instructed to change into the standard loose fitting robe for his physical examination. It's then that Dr. Zoyansky tells him he needs to be eating more, frowning at the distinct ridges of his ribs that stick out sorely. Her expression is grave as she explains the dangers of malnourishment for both Louis and his baby. He feels properly chastised when she’s finished, though he’s uneasy at the idea of eating more. Swallowing down his usual meager meals these past few days has been difficult enough. </p><p>Since he had already taken the official pregnancy blood and urine test in the previous appointment (along with the dozens of cheap tests he had used in desperation and hope that at least one would confirm that this nightmare was really just a trick of his mind… it was not), she brings out the familiar, only somewhat daunting ultrasound machine along with the accompanying fetal doppler, an instrument with an attached probe and display screen. </p><p>He shudders as she slathers his quivering stomach with the cold gel, thorough as she spreads it over his skin. His lips are sealed shut, teeth cutting into the tender sides of his mouth as he bites down desperately. </p><p>Louis exhales in relief as she steps back, jagged and abrupt. The proximity had been stifling, leaving an itch that lingers on his skin - remnants of shame and embarrassment and nerves and other ghastly feelings. He brushes them off like he always does. </p><p>She shows him the screen excitedly. Louis blinks dazedly, eyes sharpening in wonder on the little blob. He inadvertently places a hand on his stomach, lips parting in some inexplicable emotion. </p><p>“There’s your baby,” Dr. Zoyansky says cheerfully. “Well, it’ll become your baby. At six weeks, it’s still a bundle of cells and it’s only the size of a sweet pea! The face is beginning to form, most significantly in the fetus’ cheeks, chin, and jaw. And most excitingly, we can now hear the heartbeat!”</p><p>Louis’ own heartbeat picks up at the declaration, eyes widening right as Dr. Zoyansky hits a button and the unsteady pattern of thumps echoes into the room. His breathing hitches, eyes watering as the rhythm seeps into his insides and reverberates in his mind. A <em> heartbeat. </em></p><p>He doesn’t register the tears at first, eyes fixed to the screen and vision blurring. </p><p>The situation seems insane. Here he is, twenty-four years old, sitting in the examination chair and listening to the heartbeat of his future child, clutching the worn material of his changing gown with pale fingers, one of which is weighed down by a gaudy engagement ring. </p><p>And most noticeably - he’s entirely alone. It’s just him in the room with his doctor, experiencing one of the most groundbreaking, <em> life-changing </em> moments of his entire life and he’s all alone. </p><p>Barely anyone even knows he’s here, knows that he’s <em> expecting </em>. Only Dr. Zoyansky, Dean, Mr and Mrs. Cartier, and their lawyer who supervised the meeting two weeks ago when Louis signed his own non-disclosure agreement, easily surrendering his freedom and his future to his employer’s family. </p><p>Signing away his right to share the news with his family and his friends… signing away the truth behind his rushed engagement… It’s all been taken from him. He’s now alone. </p><p>But... not <em> quite </em> alone, he supposes. </p><p>Pressing down gently on his stomach again, he marvels at the knowledge that he is literally carrying what will become another human being. A human with thoughts, feelings, dreams, and aspirations- someone who will smile and laugh and cry and scream and yell and blink and breathe and bleed. </p><p>He’s creating something so precious, another human life. </p><p>Another whole person. They’re going to be a part of him for the next thirty four weeks - and much longer after that. </p><p>So no, he’s not completely alone. Just utterly lonely. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>Louis fidgets with the collar of his lavender blouse (loose fitting because even though he’s barely showing, he’d never risk it), smoothing down the wrinkles and exhaling tiredly. He’s paired the silky top with some black, slim trousers that accentuate the curve of his calves that are semi-exposed due to the cropped length. He’s wearing vintage lavender and white platform sneakers to complete the look, tapping the soles restlessly on the marble floor beneath them. </p><p>Beside him, Dean is dressed just as impressively in a fitted cobalt blue button up and sleek, slate gray slacks. The shirt shows off the breadth of his shoulders and compliments the softer tone of Louis’ own shirt. His blonde hair is styled to perfection like the rest of him - every feature fine-tuned to contribute to the depiction of casual but fashionable grace and wealth. It’s times like these where Louis can’t deny that his fiance is incredibly attractive, can’t berate himself for falling for his easy confidence and charm. All he can do is feel a poignant regret that he wasn’t strong enough to see that getting involved with the son of his boss - and moreso, <em> trusting </em>a man who has never done anything but show how unreliable and unpredictable he is, charming or not - was a mistake. </p><p>Dean scoffs into his phone which he has practically glued to his ear as always, murmuring in low voices about the newest big magazine spread about the spring line. While Dean works for his father’s company and has been trained in fashion at the most prestigious schools in the world, he's mostly involved in the marketing aspect of the brand, utilizing his advanced education in business and advertisements. </p><p>Louis on the other hand, is simply a designer - one of the premier designers of the company along with his team of Liam, Bebe, Steve, and various assistants and occasional interns. He had been the one to head the development of the spring line including designing all of the statement pieces and the face of the collection. </p><p>He had been so happy with the overwhelmingly pleased response when they launched the collection just over a month ago… However, he hadn’t been able to soak up the pride and pleasure for long. In fact, Louis can admit that everything turned sour the moment he let Liam coax him into attending the launch afterparty where he had one too many glasses of champagne and let Dean’s smug grin and flashing eyes draw him in and crack through all his defenses. </p><p>They left the party, entangled and lustful, in the bare hours of the morning. It had felt like they were the only two people in the world - Dean has that effect about him when he tries, making anyone feel like they’re special, like it’ll be worth it. </p><p>Maybe if Louis had been smarter, he would have realized that there’d be paps waiting outside, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive and sexy young bachelor heir to the James Cartier empire… and catch a glimpse they did, except that glimpse also included budding young designer Louis Tomlinson. </p><p>That had been the first mistake. </p><p>It hadn’t been the worst of the night, let alone the last. </p><p>Dean clears his throat, effectively wrenching Louis out of his inner turmoil. “I just got a text. He’ll be here in five minutes.” </p><p>Louis nods mutely, taking another small bite of his salad. They had ordered lunch an hour ago and Dean had long since finished his meal, but Louis had barely touched his own, stomach queasy with the memory of this morning’s sickness which had him kneeling over the toilet for nearly an hour. He almost starts sweating again at the recollection, but the fear of perspiring to the extent that it soaks through his thin shirt in a place as established as this is enough motivation to prevent such a disaster. </p><p>They’re at the esteemed <em> Alain Ducasse,</em> one of the most revered restaurants in all of London, and also conveniently located at their wedding venue, the Dorchester. </p><p>This is where Dean set up their first meeting with the wedding planner. Louis doesn’t have any information about the supposed expert, but Dean had assured him, a bit condescendingly, that this man is the best in the business and his parents wouldn’t hire anything but the best. He wasn't even <em>fully </em>a wedding planner, Louis learned that morning, business open to all styles of events from conferences to product launches, but weddings are his speciality. </p><p>Louis isn't too concerned about his credentials, more intent on the fact that he doesn’t actually know how much of the planning he’ll get to participate in. As far as he knows, Mrs. Cartier seems to have a specific idea in mind for their quickly approaching ceremony, a vision that caters to her own expectations and doesn't involve his and Dean's. In fact, she informed Louis that he didn’t have to worry a single hair on his <em>pretty little head</em> about any of it. </p><p>Except, he really would rather worry even just a little bit. He’s been dreaming about his wedding since he was five years old, a proud holder of dozens of themed wedding Pinterest boards and hoarder of wedding magazines - all of which are now safely tucked away in his bottom drawer, mostly because he can’t bear the sight of them. </p><p>This wedding isn’t meant to be his 'dream wedding.' No, it’s a marriage of convenience in every sense of the word… It’s just not Louis’ convenience they’re appealing to. </p><p>“Is this wedding planner… aware of the situation?” Louis asks hesitantly. </p><p>“Mum and Father have informed him of the importance of his discretion and he’s already signed the NDA,” Dean says with a light shrug. “He’s under strict obligation to not spread the information or news. I’m not even quite sure he knows it’s you and me getting married. I think he’s just been told that this is a very delicate case and it’s <em> vital </em>he keep it under wraps.” </p><p>“Alright,” Louis nods, voice dipping into a low murmur. He ducks his head, focusing on the varying shades of green in his salad along with the blue cheese and apple bacon toppings. </p><p>“Ah, I think I see him,” Dean says after a minute of stilted silence. Louis hums his acknowledgement, slowly raising his head and following Dean’s impatient stare unhurriedly to the front of the restaurant. </p><p>The first thing he sees is a head of dark curls, cut close to the sides but a bit longer on top. His eyes trace over the expensive black suit appreciatively. So the wedding planner fits the part - Louis should’ve seen that coming. The Cartiers wouldn’t hire just anyone. </p><p>The man is talking to the hostess, undoubtedly giving his name so he can find their table. The hostess smiles, red lips curved almost flirtatiously as she brushes past the man and walks in their direction. </p><p>Louis blinks lazily, moving to return his attention to the fascinating texture of their table surface right as the man turns, exposing his face. </p><p>The clatter of his fork slipping from his fingers and hitting the table elicits a flinch from Dean beside him. “Jesus, what the fuck?” he sputters.</p><p>He doesn’t answer - <em>can’t</em> answer, heart pounding so fast in his chest, it feels as if it’ll jump right out. </p><p>His lips part, mouth falling open in shock as their wedding planner follows the hostess with quick, confident strides. There’s a dark binder clutched under his arm and a pen behind his ear. He’s currently checking his watch, a slight frown on his face and not paying any attention to where he’s going - <em> who </em> he’s going to. </p><p>Dean and Louis are who he’s headed for, there’s no denying it. He hasn’t seen them yet. Bile rises in Louis’ throat and he swallows thickly, disbelief and fear warring in his mind. He grips the table edge desperately, fingers trembling. He can feel the confused weight of Dean’s gaze rest on him, no doubt taken off guard by Louis’ sudden agitation. But then Dean brushes it off and stands up, waiting to greet the man as he gets closer and closer. </p><p>Their wedding planner, in all his half-buttoned white shirt curly-haired tattooed green-eyed glory, is <em> Harry fucking Styles </em>, also known as Louis’ ex-boyfriend and the man he once loved more than anything and anyone in the world.</p><p>And now he’s less than ten feet away and moving closer with every passing second. Louis’  eyes trace over the distinct line of his jaw and the curve of his Adam’s apple, eyes lingering on the stray curls curving onto his forehead attractively. Harry cut his hair, he realizes. And holy fucking shit, how it is possible that Harry is even more handsome now than he was as twenty-one years old. </p><p>Five feet now. </p><p>Three. He’s looking up now, eyes finding Dean’s figure first. Louis watches those familiar lips curl into a charming smile, watches that damned dimple reveal itself. </p><p>“Mr. Cartier, pleasure to meet you,” Harry greets immediately. His voice is every bit as deep and enchanting as Louis has remembered, though he hadn’t remembered how much of an effect it has on him. He shivers, curling into himself in the booth. Harry doesn’t notice. He shakes Dean’s hand firmly.  </p><p>“The pleasure is all mine,” Dean says, switching on that easy charm in a blink of an eye. He clears his throat. “And this is my fiance, Louis.”</p><p>He catches the exact moment Harry recognizes him, eyes widening and body going rigid in surprise. If Louis hadn't already known, it'd become obvious immediately that there's no way Harry knew Louis was one of his clients. It’s like all the color drains from his body, leaving him a dazed and confused shell. Louis offers a strained smile, unable to pry his lips apart and rasp out a greeting from his dry throat. </p><p>Harry just stares at him for a minute, rooted to the spot. But, almost in an instant, his expression smooths over and his body untenses. He smiles widely, all signs of distress a distant memory. He holds out a hand to Louis over the table. Louis notes the familiar rings on his long fingers and suppresses the urge to shiver again. </p><p>Louis purses his lips, ready for the inevitable awkward reintroduction and whatever damage control he’ll have to do once Dean finds out that Louis' dated their wedding planner for three years, meaning he’s more likely to find out what’s going on. He opens his mouth, only to be interrupted. </p><p>“Nice to meet you, I’m Harry Styles,” Harry says casually, extending his hand even further. </p><p>Taken aback, he stares at Harry in shock. <em>Nice to meet you.  </em></p><p>He’s… he’s pretending not to know Louis. He’s standing there and pretending like he doesn’t know Louis at all. He’s <em> lying.  </em></p><p>“Nice to meet you too,” Louis responds belatedly, some confusion bleeding through. He reluctantly raises his hand to shake Harry’s waiting one, still reeling from the unexpected move. </p><p>The contrast from Harry’s warm skin and his own colder fingers is jarring. Or maybe it’s just the fact that this is the first contact between him and Harry in over three years that’s jarring. Maybe it’s both. Louis feels like screaming. </p><p>“Right, well, sit down,” Dean insists, taking his own seat next to Louis. He’s never been so aware of the intentional foot of space between them, obvious and uncrossable. “I’ve got the tab so you don’t have to worry. Order anything you’d like.”</p><p>Louis cringes slightly. There’s nothing inherently wrong with what Dean said, but the edge in his voice - that layer of <em> snobbery </em> and blatant <em>I’m-better-than-you </em>haughtiness - grazes the air unavoidably. </p><p>“No worries, I’ve eaten already,” Harry brushes off smoothly, settling in across from them with a blank expression. He pointedly ignores Louis as he pulls out his binder and sets it on the table. He clears his throat. “So we’re planning this wedding in a month.”</p><p>“Yes,” Dean confirms. “You’re up to the task I take it?”</p><p>“Of course,” Harry says easily. He opens the binder gingerly and begins flipping through the pages, brows furrowing. “Except for a current wedding I’m working on until next Monday, you're my only clients for the next month thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Cartier’s generous payments. Speaking of which, Mrs. Cartier sent me some information about certain elements she wanted included but obviously, the most important input would come from you… two.”</p><p>“Actually,” Dean starts, and Louis prepares himself. “Louis and I are giving you the reins and full freedom to plan the wedding. Obviously, budget's not an issue for us so there’s no worries there. You can implement whatever Mum says, but otherwise, we’re not particularly picky.”</p><p>Harry stills, eyebrows furrowing. “You… pardon?”</p><p>“We trust your judgement,” Dean amends, smiling charmingly. Louis resists the urge to roll his eyes. </p><p>“You don’t have any requests at all?” Harry asks, completely bewildered. Louis can’t exactly blame him. He nearly flinches when Harry glances at him, frowning deeply. It’s then that Louis realizes that Harry’s well aware of Louis’ obsession with his dream wedding, which means he’s well aware Louis would never rationally give up all control of what may be the biggest night of his life so easily. </p><p>But then again, a lot can change in three years, Louis thinks bitterly. Harry has no right to make any assumptions, whether he’s completely spot on or not. </p><p>“The only request is that it looks good to the public,” Dean says, pasting on a partly sheepish but still unbearably smug smile. “I’m sure you’ve been briefed how important this is to get right. The media is going to be harsh about the Cartier heir marrying one of the company designers, but it’s not like that at all. Louis and I just fell in love and no one could stop us.” </p><p>Louis barely manages to tamp down his wince at the overly sappy words. It gets worse when Dean immediately reaches over to grab Louis’ hand and squeeze firmly. Louis sucks in a breath, internally cringing at the force in the movement. </p><p>Harry’s biting his lip, looking blase and unbothered. “I see.” </p><p>“But we really don’t mind about decorations or anything,” Dean continues. “Louis is going to design our suits so there’s no worry for that either. I’m sure you can negotiate with him if necessary for things like flowers.” </p><p>Louis nods jerkily, dread building in his stomach. He’ll be designing both suits, but he’ll actually also be the one actually <em>making</em> his own suit. It was his one condition. Still, he doesn’t want to “negotiate” with Harry. He doesn’t want to do anything with Harry, period. He almost flinches again as Dean rests their still-clasped hands on the table, exposing Louis’ engagement ring. Harry frowns when he sees it and Louis resists the urge to run, completely mortified. </p><p>Like Zayn, Harry had once been well aware of what Louis thinks of over-the-top rings like the one resting on his ring finger. He seems almost confused at the whole thing, like he can’t quite comprehend Louis sitting there with <em> Dean </em>and that ring. Louis actually wants to scream. </p><p>“And of course we’ll want to be present for certain things,” Dean adds, "but the actual planning and theme part is all up to you.”</p><p>Harry nods slowly. “Well, I must say I wasn’t expecting that, but I promise you I’ll make this a night you won’t forget.” </p><p>Louis may have imagined it, but he’s sure Harry’s eyes lingered on him during the last part, an unfamiliar look in those green irises he had once adored so much. </p><p>They go over some more details. Louis doesn’t speak beyond small nods or hums of agreement. At one point he excuses himself to use the restroom - it’s not even a flimsy lie, he genuinely needed to go. He’s definitely never been more grateful for his newly compromised bladder. He focuses on shoving salad into his mouth, chewing and swallowing almost robotically. His appetite is still nowhere to be seen, so it’s almost painful but he forces himself to do it. Dr. Zoyansky was adamant that he eat more and he has to at least <em> try.  </em></p><p>Having a baby may have been the least convenient and most unexpected part of his life so far, but he’s determined to do it right, determined to do right by his future kid no matter how much the world seems against them at the moment. </p><p>Louis breathes a discreet sigh of relief when Harry finally stands up. He’s been scribbling furiously in his binder for the past ten minutes, interrogating them (mostly just Dean) for information on the venue, the guest list, and the entertainment which was another aspect the Cartiers are taking care off… as in they’re hiring a full-fledged orchestra for Louis to walk down the aisle to. </p><p>Speaking of which, that’s another aspect Dean tells Harry. Louis may be giving up all of his dreams for his perfect wedding, but this was an aspect that isn’t negotiable. He’s walking down the aisle, no matter what. Over the years there have been dozens of different variations of weddings for gay couples including versions where no one walks the aisle or both of them do, but Louis has always grown up with the dream of being walked down the aisle by his mother where everyone’s eyes including his beloved would be on him, and that’s one thing he won’t - can’t - give up, even if the beloved part has to be erased. </p><p>Dean, on the other hand, had no such desire but he accepted Louis’ terms which he conveys to Harry. Louis ducks his head, trying not to blush because Harry already <em> knows </em>about this particular fantasy. </p><p>In fact, Harry used to whisper in Louis’ ear how much he’d love it. <em> “Seeing you dressed so beautifully while everyone stares but you’ll only be looking at me and I at you, so stunning in the clothes you designed yourself… I think that’ll be the happiest moment of my life,” </em>he had confessed in the early hours of dawn, fingers skimming Louis’ bare sides tenderly and gentle lips ghosting along his throat lovingly. </p><p>But now, it’s nothing but a lost dream. One of millions of lost dreams that seem to be collecting in the recesses of Louis’ mind. </p><p>They bid Harry goodbye at the front of the hotel. Dean has his arm slung around Louis’ waist, his grip almost uncomfortably tight. He has to force himself not to squirm away from the imprint of Dean’s fingers digging into the skin of his hip through the thin material of his blouse. </p><p>Unable to help himself, Louis tracks Harry as he walks to his car which, to his utmost surprise, is a fucking <em> Range Rover.  </em></p><p>His mind veers back to their uni days where they’d lay on Harry’s bed in his shitty flat which he shared with Liam before joining a frat (God, he’s going to have to tell <em> Liam!) </em> and talk about how one day they’d be rich enough to drive glamorous cars, eat at fancy restaurants, and never worry about things like bills or debt - rich enough to be considered <em> successful</em>. Success has always been Harry’s dream, and who could blame him? </p><p>Back then he hadn’t even known what he wanted to be when he grew up - had been a clueless uni student who played rugby and the guitar and was always eager to help Louis cut fabric for his assignments while they listened to Fleetwood Mac and belted the lyrics at the top of their lungs under the dim light of Louis’ fairy lights and the low beam of the setting sun. Back then, it felt like Harry wasn't so worried about the future when they were together. But maybe Louis missed all the signs. </p><p>A lump forms in Louis’ throat which he promptly swallows down. <em> Those days are all history anyway</em>, he thinks firmly. He lets Dean guide them to his own Mercedes and open the passenger seat door for him, having accepted Dean’s reluctant offer to drive him home earlier that morning. </p><p>Because though Harry never quite figured out what he wanted to do with his life, he did figure out eventually that he didn’t want Louis to be a part of it. </p><p>And then he broke Louis’ heart.</p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>After hours of debating the pros and cons (and a tall glass of orange juice), Louis finally dials the number. </p><p>“Lou?” Liam asks. “It’s midnight, everything alright?”</p><p>Louis exhales, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “Liam,” he says, voice scratchy from his crying session an hour ago. He’s laying on the couch with his pajama-clad legs and fuzzy socked feet draped over the armrest lazily and an arm slung protectively over his stomach, ring glinting in the dim light. “Harry’s my wedding planner.”</p><p>There’s a palpable pause in which all Louis can hear is the sound of Liam’s breathing until it hitches and he gasps dramatically. “Harry as in <em> your </em>Harry?”</p><p>“Harry as in <em> our </em> Harry,” Louis retorts defensively. “And <em> yes. </em>”</p><p>“He’s your <em> wedding </em> planner? Oh my god,” Liam says. “That’s got to be the worst coincidence ever.”</p><p>“No shit,” he mutters, snorting. </p><p>“Did you tell Zayn?” </p><p>“I’ll tell him later because he promised to call, but he doesn’t <em> know </em> Harry like you do,” Louis says. He and Zayn are best friends but they’ve technically known each other for just over a year, though sometimes it feels like Zayn has been with him for an entire lifetime. He tilts his head back, leaning on the couch lamely. “It’s going to be <em> so </em> awkward.” </p><p>“Well… it’ll be awkward but you’ve both moved on so…” Liam trails off, an unspoken question in his tone, <em> or have you?  </em></p><p>“Yeah, well of course,” Louis says easily, quelling the panicked rate of his heart. “I’m head over heels for Dean, but it’s just… strange. I haven’t seen him in three years, y’know?”</p><p>Not since Harry shut his flat door on Louis, shattering his heart right along with it. Louis had gone home, weeping and shaking, and pulled up his emails to accept the internship position he had been offered by <em> James Cartier Design. </em> </p><p>In New York City. </p><p>One month, a cheap plane ticket, and a cramped suitcase packed to the brim, and Louis left London - and Harry - behind. He had nothing but his slowly healing heart and his lucky fabric cutting scissors (the one gift from Harry he kept along with his paper airplane necklace which Harry gave him when they were nineteen) to remind him of what he had been escaping. </p><p>“Yeah, he did disappear on us,” Liam agrees, a tinge of bitterness in his voice. He and Harry had been <em> close - </em>flatmates and even when Liam moved out and Harry joined a frat in junior year, best mates. Liam, a fellow fashion student in most of Louis’ classes, had actually introduced the two of them. </p><p>It’s honestly sort of crazy looking back on it. Liam and Louis had <em> despised </em> each other at first. Louis had always been more of an experimental and bold designer while Liam stuck to a more classic look and they <em> always </em>clashed, from the moment Ms. Hollis paired them together for a project where they had to design an outfit and every class from then where they traded scorching glares and bitter remarks. </p><p>But as time went on, they both got tired of their unintended rivalry and ultimately made peace over brunch at the favored campus cafe. Louis quickly realized he had misjudged Liam entirely and Liam realized he did the same. After that it was much too easy for them to become friends and partners in crime, taking the design world by storm together. </p><p>When Louis landed his job at James Cartier in their London branch, it took no hesitation for him to pack up and return to his homeland. One of the first things he did was suggest the abilities and designs of a certain Mr. Payne who would be a great asset to his team. Now they get to work together all the time and Louis would have it no other way. </p><p>“But now he’s back,” Louis hisses, "and my wedding planner!”</p><p>“I never thought Harry would end up planning weddings for his career, to be honest,” Liam muses, predictably getting distracted. </p><p>Louis rolls his eyes. “He's gone into <em>event planning, </em>actually. And yes, he's shocked us all,” he says flatly. “Now, can you focus? Please explain to me how I'm supposed to interact with him for the next four weeks?" </p><p>“Well, first of all, be grateful it’s only a <em> month</em>,” Liam reminds him. “Most people hire their wedding planners six months to even a <em>year </em>before the wedding. And second of all, it’s not like Harry’s the type of person to let history or personal things get in the way of his job so I doubt he'd do anything to impair the process. Has he mentioned anything?”</p><p>Louis sits up, annoyance sparking in his veins. “No! Because the bastard is pretending <em> he doesn’t know me!</em> Can you believe this, Liam?” </p><p>“Uh… I guess?" Liam says slowly, sensing Louis' mood. "Doesn’t that make things easier?”</p><p>“No!” Louis replies earnestly. “It makes things even more awkward!” And it <em> hurts</em>, but he doesn't say that. </p><p>“Oh, well… I think he’s just trying to keep things professional,” Liam says. “Not that I want to defend him or anything. Trust me, I still hate him for breaking your heart.”</p><p>Louis grimaces. “Yeah,” he breathes, heart panging at the memories of countless sleepless nights and endless crying that followed their abrupt breakup. Three glorious years together all down the drain in a matter of minutes. </p><p>“You told me you and Dean were doing a hands-off planning - I still don’t understand that by the way - but maybe it means you won’t have to interact with him <em> too </em>much?” Liam says, trying to cheer him up. </p><p>He sighs, pulling the sleeves of his sweater down over his cold fingers. “Hopefully.”</p><p>“While we’re here, I have a question about that design you sent to Bebe the other day,” Liam exclaims, abruptly changing the subject. Louis can’t say he minds. He lets Liam drone on about the color swatches he’s been looking at for the fall season and indulges him on his internal conflict over suede versus denim. </p><p>And he considers it a small victory when he only thinks about Harry once or twice. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>“So what have you been thinking about?” Bebe asks as Louis settles behind his desk, sketchpad already set out in front of him. She takes the seat across from him, dressed in a stylish cropped shirt and slim cut flare jeans. Louis himself is wearing black and white colorblock trousers, a translucent white shirt, a bright red Adidas jacket on top, and white platform sneakers on his feet. “Something classic? Or more flowy and bohemian? And are we doing white or black?” </p><p>“Not white or black,” Louis says, ignoring the other questions. “You know there's only one choice here. It's going to be lavender.” That’s another thing he’s not willing to give up. His suit is going to be what <em> he </em>wants, not the horrid options Mrs. Cartier sent him pictures of earlier that morning for “reference.” She also informed him that she thought his idea of them wearing flower crowns was too “tacky,” so Louis is feeling a bit bitter. </p><p>“Oh, we’re going for something striking and elegant, I see,” Bebe says, sounding intrigued. Her eyes widen. “Shit - Lou, you do realize these pictures could end up in, like, <em>Vogue </em> or something.” </p><p>Louis makes a face. “We actually already have a photoshoot date set already,” he reveals. He tries to keep the snark out of his voice, but judging by Bebe’s look of concern, he’s failed. </p><p>“Everything okay, Lou?” she asks, eyeing him carefully.</p><p>He nods. “Yeah, just a bit of pressure I guess.” </p><p>“I can’t even imagine trying to plan a wedding in a month,” Bebe admits. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to do everything I possibly can to help you pull it off. Starting by helping you make the wedding ensemble of your dreams.”</p><p>Louis smiles. Maybe one wedding dream of his younger, more naive self will come to pass. He clears his throat and slides the sketchbook to Bebe. “I have a rough sketch of what I want, but I need your input. I’m going to talk to Liam about the fabrics later on.”</p><p>On their little team, they all have certain areas of expertise. Bebe and Louis mostly work on the designs themselves though Bebe’s strongsuit is streetwear while Louis’ is the stereotypical haute couture. Liam, while still a designer, also focuses on the materials and fabrics and oversees the actual production of their pieces. And finally, Steve fine tunes everything to fit in with the current trends and fads, while also heading the photoshoots and models. He’s also typically the one who gets stuck with the most phone calls and paperwork. </p><p>All four of them have assistants who help ease the workload but other than that, it’s just them. They’re the smallest design team in the company but they’re so in tune with each other, it never seems like a struggle. Louis knows that all four of them have issues with overworking, all of them usually willing to stay overnight in the studio to finish some last minute sketches even when they’re bone tired and frazzled. And yet, he wouldn’t have it any other way. He adores the little family they’ve created amid a bustling, overwhelming fashion empire and he’s grateful for it every day. </p><p>Bebe studies the drawing appreciatively. “Oh, Lou, it’s gorgeous! And it’s going to look gorgeous on you!”</p><p>He blushes, fidgeting with his jacket sleeves. Even after years of climbing the fashion success ladder and receiving praise from the biggest fashion critics in the world, he’s still not able to take a compliment without getting shy. Zayn teases him about it all the time. </p><p>And once upon a time, Harry used to too. </p><p>They discuss it for a while longer, bouncing ideas back and forth and filling pages worth of other smaller sketches focusing on the details. Then they get lunch with Steve and Liam at a nearby cafe before returning for a meeting. </p><p>Louis embarrassingly has to excuse himself to go to the restroom halfway through while they’re in the midst of discussing the theme for the Summer swim line. His team isn’t even heading that project so he doesn’t feel too bad. </p><p>However, it’s some sort of sick timing that he bumps into Mr. Cartier on the way back to the meeting room which means he has to endure a stilted conversation in which he interrogates Louis on his doctor’s appointment and if he’s been discreet like he’s supposed to. The whole interaction leaves a sour taste in Louis’ mouth that lingers as he returns to the meeting. </p><p>Despite his best intentions, he ends up zoning out a bit while they get to team check-ins, allowing Liam and Bebe to do most of the talking about their progress with the Fall line. They still have months to work on it but they’ve been aiming to finish early, leaving them ample time to focus on collaborating with the marketing and publicity teams. </p><p>To make matters worse, he develops a headache, temples throbbing excruciatingly every time he so much as blinks. By the time they’re dismissed, spots are dancing in Louis’ eyes, blurring his vision as he grits his teeth. </p><p>He just wants to go <em> home</em>. He never thought he’d feel this way - going to work once seemed like the highlight of every day, an escape from his empty flat and the loneliness that blooms whenever he’s there. He loves designing clothes more than most things in the world, yet lately it’s felt more like a sentence rather than an outlet for his passion and creativity. </p><p>Maybe because he’s now associating fashion specifically with the Cartiers and all he can do is think about how the wedding is quickly approaching with every passing hour and there’s nothing, <em> nothing </em>he can do to stop it. And maybe it’s also because every piece that he’s designing is under the name of his future wardens - he’s trapped by them in every way. His job, his love life, his future baby… all are being controlled by the same people. </p><p>And to think he once admired Mr and Mrs. Cartier as the biggest icons in the fashion industry.</p><p>To think he once wanted to <em> be </em> them. </p><p>He thinks back to that damned day, just eighteen hours after he called Dean to tell him the news, four abandoned positive pregnancy tests scattered on the floor around him along with a bottle of wine which he never ended up drinking. Dean had called a car to pick him up, not giving him any prior information or even a heads-up until Louis was quite literally forced into the vehicle and taken to the Cartier’s residence. After a long four hours of negotiation in which no one was present except for Louis, Dean, the Cartiers, and their personal lawyer, Louis signed the NDA and his future off to his employer and agreed to the marriage of convenience. </p><p>“Two years,” Mr. Cartier promised, looking stiff and intimidating in his burgundy suit. In fact, both he and Mrs. Cartier were dressed impeccably along with Dean, leaving Louis looking shabby in comparison with his mom jeans and worn out vans. It was some twisted tactic to intimidate him.</p><p>It worked. </p><p>“Only two years and you can file a mutual divorce and part on friendly terms. You can even have full custody. Dean won't mind,” Mr. Cartier had explained casually, hand gracefully raising his glass of champagne to his straight lips. “The only condition is that the truth never gets out.” </p><p>Dean had agreed instantly, eager to escape from a potential scandal unscathed and with no added responsibility. Louis agreed quite quickly as well- it was easy when he realized this proposal was the best he was going to get. Two years of his life, trapped in a marriage with someone he still barely knows. </p><p>That’s what he’s going into in exactly a month. He’s on a final countdown from thirty to the end of it all. </p><p>But there’s nothing he can do but bid his team goodbye, shrugging on his abandoned jacket and walking out to his car. His migraine has gradually ebbed into a low throb, more tolerable but still awful and inescapable as he settles in behind the wheel, gripping the leather with pale fingers. </p><p>He grits his teeth as his head throbs again, sighing as he turns the ignition on and backs out. </p><p>Driving has never been Louis’ favorite thing to do, always opting to make others take the wheel when he can or even resorting to using public transit to avoid it. However, he’s gotten pretty used to doing things he doesn’t want to be doing, and so he drives himself home, trying to ignore the memory festering in his brain of his nineteen-year-old self telling a nineteen-year-old Harry that he’d be driving Louis around at all times if he wanted to continue to see him. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>Dean forwards him an email from Harry that night. It details the main focuses for their next few meetings, all of which are assumed to take up the whole day so that they can cross off everything on their long list. Louis had already sent the Cartiers a list of his preferred invitees which meant they already sent out invitations and booked a room block at the hotel for out-of-town visitors. Louis is honestly quite amazed at how easily they spent the money considering only a few people have officially RSVP'd. </p><p>They’ve kept the guestlist somewhat short, but still long enough to maintain the standard of Cartier events. And of course, all invitations were paired with a kind request for the invitees’ discretion on the proceedings. </p><p>April nineteenth is their next meeting which they’ll be going over the list of vendors Harry has chosen and working out the details for the coming weeks. </p><p>Catering day is the twenty-first, where Harry is setting up a meeting with the caterers that Mr. Cartier suggested so they can make progress on the menu. They’ll also be finalizing details about the cake. It’s the first of two food meetings, the second of which will take place on May tenth where they’ll finalize the menu and do a final taste-test of everything. Louis saw a copy of Mrs. Cartier’s ideal menu which includes a whole host of exotic, expensive foods, some of which Louis isn’t even quite sure is edible. </p><p>Then April twenty-third is flower day where they’ll be meeting Harry to discuss the floral arrangements with whoever he deems the most suitable company for their limited timeline. </p><p>Speaking of colors, the twenty-fifth is a meeting for finalizing the theme and swatches for decorations. Harry mentions how his friend and trusted decoration coordinator will be joining them in this meeting and will be present for the wedding festivities from then on. </p><p>The twenty-sixth is a meeting with the band and entertainment which according to Dean will mostly end up being a mini orchestra if his parents have a say in it (which they do). </p><p>By the twenty-eighth, Harry also expects to have confirmed a photographer, confirmed all of the necessary vendors, and he also informed them that he’s made a reservation at the hotel for the remaining weeks (under the generous funding of the Cartiers, of course) so he can be at close call if something unforeseen should occur. </p><p>He also made a note about how they can schedule a meeting for planning the honeymoon during a free day since he’s pretty flexible. Reading that part leaves a sour taste in Louis’ mouth, stomach twisting at the thought of having to keep up appearances for a honeymoon. He pictures hours of laying on the beach with Dean, an uncrossable and uncomfortable distance between them and a stilted awkwardness that lingers around them to no avail. </p><p>Not to mention, they’d have to keep up pretenses. Having to pretend every few days is already hard enough and it’s only going to get worse as the wedding approaches and the appearances and interactions with vendors and guests grows higher. </p><p>The final two weeks before the wedding is for putting it all together. That means visiting the venue and fine tuning details and working out how the wedding will be organized and laid out in said venue with said details. The photoshoot is set for May eleventh which means Louis has to be finished with his suit by the ninth for the fitting on the tenth. Everything will start to be set up on the twelfth and will only take a couple of days thanks to the expensive assembly crew hired by the Cartiers. </p><p>The bachelors’ parties will be May thirteenth and fourteenth and the dress rehearsal on the , and then the sixteenth is the big day.</p><p>Louis is dreading it more and more with every passing second. </p><p>He stares at the long list of items- all tasks and boxes to tick off that involve him and Dean, <em> together </em> and <em> pretending. </em>A long list of potential mistakes and mess-ups, of chances for Louis to screw up. So many opportunities for cracks to break through his fragile barrier of lies and reveal the raw truth underneath it, an experience that will undoubtedly just make things worse for Louis and make him more vulnerable to the threat of the Cartiers. </p><p>A shudder racks his body. He grimaces again, carefully shutting his laptop screen so he doesn’t have to look at it any longer. However, the searing white screen is imprinted in his brain, glued to the backs of his eyes so that he’s unable to escape those boldly lettered words, unable to <em> hide.  </em></p><p>He exhales shakily, feeling feverish and clammy. His fingers are quivering when he raises them to his head and claws at his hair desperately. His eyes flutter shut so he can will away the expectations, just for a small second. So he can pretend he’s alright, just for a small second. He breathes deeply, holding for counts of five like his mother used to tell him to do. </p><p>When his heart rate slows and his chest untightens enough for him to breathe without feeling like he’s one step from choking out a sob, he reaches for his phone. </p><p>He pulls up his favorites, ignoring the first name on the list - a name that had long since lost its status as Louis’ most frequently called despite his reluctance to get rid of it, and is now being remembered and recognized much more than he ever imagined. Yes, he still has Harry’s number on his phone, under the cute <b>H &lt;3 </b>he'd inputted as a young boy in love. He could never bring himself to delete it. It has stayed with him through a total of three phones thanks to iCloud contacts sync.</p><p>However, that’s not why he’s here. He presses another name on the list, seventh on the list after his mum and sisters. He holds the device up to his ear, breathing out to the tune of the rings. </p><p>Miraculously, Zayn picks up quickly - a rare feat for the man who all too often forgets he owns a phone. </p><p>“Hey, Lou,” he greets brightly. “How’s it going?”</p><p>Louis bites back the urge to cry again, so relieved at the sound of his other best mate’s voice. “Hey, Z,” he says quietly. </p><p>Zayn senses the sorrow in his voice immediately. “Babe, what’s wrong?” </p><p>“Nothing,” Louis says quietly, the lie tasting rancid on his tongue. “Just feeling a bit sad, s’all.”</p><p>His friend is silent for a moment. “Hey, you know I’m staying local for the next month, right? Wanna be here for you to help with everything and of course, to plan the <em> best </em>bachelor’s party ever.”</p><p>Louis smiles despite himself. “<em>Please </em> no clubs.”</p><p>Zayn scoffs. “Like hell! I know you, babe.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Louis agrees. He does. There’s a reason that even though he’s known Liam much longer, he asked both of them to be his best men. Zayn and him may be relatively new mates, the significance of their friendship is monumental and Louis genuinely doesn’t know where he’d be without him. </p><p>They met on the oddest of places too: the flight from New York City to London where Zayn had been returning from his stint coordinating the month long gallery at the MOMA and Louis had been heading back to London for the first time in over a year since had packed his bags and fled. </p><p>The universe knew what it was doing seating Louis Tomlinson next to Zayn Malik for the seven hour journey. A few margaritas and a long conversation later, they had exchanged numbers and promised to meet up for lunch soon. There had been no romantic feelings in play, just an instant platonic connection that Louis had been craving for ages. </p><p>And god, is he grateful for it every single day. </p><p>But he’s also yearning to tell Zayn the <em> truth </em>, to let everything slip from his lips so he can stop feeling so damn alone. So he can finally sleep without that crushing pressure on his lungs that makes him feel like he’s going to burst into tears if he breathes too harshly. So he can finally dream without wading through nightmare after nightmare, all of which he must suffer through by himself. So he can get rid of the weight resting upon his shoulders, so heavy it feels like he’s staggering through his day. </p><p>But he can’t, he <em> can’t.  </em></p><p>There’s been a stagnant pause in the conversation as Louis drowned in the depths of his turmoil, nothing but the soft sound of Zayn’s breathing to anchor him in the moment. </p><p>“Is everything alright, Lou?” Zayn asks carefully. </p><p>Louis doesn’t answer immediately. “I’m fine,” he breathes eventually, the clipped words falling out of place in their carefully woven, but still unfailingly delicate conversation. Neither of them point out that he didn’t actually answer the question. </p><p>“Babe… can I come stay with you?” Zayn asks quietly, sounding concerned and effortlessly sweet. Louis closes his eyes, exhaling shakily. </p><p>“Could you?” he asks meekly - shyly, even though Zayn had been the one to ask. </p><p>“Yes, of course,” Zayn says hurriedly. “Honestly, Lou. This must be so stressful for you and you shouldn’t be living alone. I don’t know why you’re not with Dean -”</p><p>“Because he can’t abandon his flatmate until their lease expires,” Louis blurts, flushing red with embarrassment because Zayn <em> already knows this </em>since Louis has said it… multiple times. </p><p>Not to mention, Dean doesn’t even have a flatmate. </p><p>“Right,” says Zayn flatly. “I also know you’re the most independent person I know and you’d rather bottle everything up than admit you need comfort sometimes. You take care of everyone else and forget that someone needs to take care of <em> you. </em>You’re so unbelievably strong, babe, but you have to remember that I’m always here for you. And so is Liam and your other friends who adore you so much… And Dean. You don’t have to pull this off alone.” </p><p>He blinks dazedly, eyes watering and mouth quivering as he holds back a sob. He doesn’t know what to say, <em> I love you so much and I wish I could tell you why I’m being like this but I can’t.  </em></p><p>
  <em> This time I have to bottle up everything or else it’ll all fall apart - </em>
</p><p>“I don’t want to be alone,” is what he settles on. “Right now. I <em> am </em>stressed, you’re right. And I’d love it if you came to stay with me.” </p><p>“Good,” Zayn breathes, sounding relieved and pleased. “I’ll be there tomorrow night.”</p><p>Louis huffs out a small laugh, some of the tightness in his chest easing enough for him to pull out a genuine smile. “I look forward to it,” he says. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>Zayn arrives by noon the next day, lugging a red suitcase and his overflowing sketchbook into Louis’ flat while chattering on about how his Uber driver tried to come onto him despite his evident discomfort. </p><p>Louis murmurs his sympathy, feeling a rush of disgust for people who think they’re entitled to other people due to their own ego or self-righteousness. </p><p>He’s biting his lip from letting out a wince when his stomach churns frantically. His morning sickness really won’t give him a break and it’s extremely inconvenient, especially when Zayn spares him a glance right as his face pales and he presses a palm to his stomach. </p><p>His brow arches in question and Louis forces a smile, loosening his tense shoulders and hiding his misery. Thankfully, his best mate falls for it, returning to his task of unpacking his bags in Louis’ spare bedroom. </p><p>By ‘spare bedroom,' he means his office, but the couch there can be converted into a pull-out bed so it’ll become Zayn’s room for the following weeks. </p><p>Louis helps him as best as he can, but mostly he listens while Zayn catches him up with all the drama and gossip in the art world (a lot more than you’d think apparently). </p><p>Then they have a late lunch and Zayn starts asking about Dean and the wedding and Louis’ anxiety grows. “When can I meet him?” Zayn is asking. </p><p>“Oh, um, soon… Probably sometime this week,” Louis says slowly, “He’s a bit busy with this marketing issue but we’ll probably all be able to meet up for lunch sometime?” Zayn looks appeased by this and Louis internally sighs with relief. </p><p>He thinks lying to Zayn will be the hardest of any other. He’s tried not to think about how he’s supposed to hide his morning sickness from his best mate especially if it involves him waking up at three in the morning to puke and then never fall back asleep. </p><p>But he just really doesn’t want to be alone anymore. </p><p>“Okay, so let’s talk about the wedding,” Zayn says when they finish getting him settled in. Louis suppresses his flinch and forces a smile, corners of his mouth stretching awkwardly. “Is there anything I could do to make it easier for you?”</p><p>Louis sighs thoughtfully. “We’re letting Harry have pretty much all creative freedom so it’s already a lot less of a load.”</p><p>“To be honest, Lou, I’m still surprised about that,” Zayn admits, scratching behind his ear absently, “I mean, you’ve been dreaming about your wedding for your entire life. Don’t think I don’t know about your Pinterest boards either.” </p><p>“Yeah well… I guess I’ve realized that it’s not about the wedding itself, it’s about the people. Dean and you and my friends and family,” he trails off, trying to look nonchalant. “I just want to marry the man I love.” If his voice wobbles at the end, Zayn doesn’t pick up on it. </p><p>Instead, he nods, looking less uneasy but not completely so. “Alright, but if you snap halfway through this month and decide you want to control the entire thing, I’ve got your back.”</p><p>Louis smiles fondly. </p><p>“And Harry? That’s the name of your wedding planner?”</p><p>“Fuck, yeah, I have to tell you something else too,” Louis says softly, ducking his head, “Harry’s my ex-boyfriend.”</p><p>Zayn stares at him, mouth agape. </p><p>“Yeah, my exact response,” Louis says jokingly. </p><p>“Okay, we need wine,” says Zayn firmly, “because clearly there’s a story here.”</p><p>Louis isn’t sure what makes him flinch - the part about wine which he most definitely cannot drink, or the thought of explaining his relationship with Harry to Zayn. He’s sure they’ve talked about it before - albeit without attaching a name to the discussions because Louis could never bear to say it - so it’s not like Zayn doesn’t know anything. </p><p>But he’s afraid when the dots connect, Zayn will realize what a big deal this is. </p><p>Liam thinks Louis has long since moved on, but Zayn would be another story. Too many vulnerable drunken confessions spewed from his lips in the past which means Zayn knows Louis was hung up on this mysterious man - maybe still is. </p><p>And when he finds out Louis’ wedding planner is that mysterious man… </p><p>Well, fooling him is going to become a lot more difficult. </p><p>“I’ll get the wine,” is what he says quietly. He’ll just have to hope that Zayn gets tipsy enough to not notice when Louis doesn’t drink beyond a few sips. He glances down at his stomach. It’s still way too early for him to be showing but when he stares at himself in the mirror, he can see the slight firm pudge that’s formed near his belly button. His baby is still nothing but an embryo growing in his stomach. Louis refuses to endanger the fragile seed that will one day sprout into a being. “And we’ll talk.”</p><p>Zayn shoots him an affectionate smile. “We’ll talk.”</p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>“What are we doing today again?” Dean asks and Louis refrains from rolling his eyes, huffing quietly. </p><p>“Going over a list of vendors Harry chose,” he hisses. “You’re the one who sent me the schedule, I <em> know </em>you’ve seen it.” His teeth are grit and he feels like one wrong action could send him over the edge. He’s in a bad mood, basically. This morning he threw up again and the remnants of his nausea evolved into an excruciating migraine which lingers even now, throbbing at his temples and putting spots over his eyes. </p><p>“Okay, geez,” Dean mutters. “Remember to pretend. You were so stiff last time.”</p><p>“You were stiff too, take some responsibility,” Louis shoots back scornfully, adjusting his mint green blouse irritatedly. He’s wearing his favorite silk Bardot top tucked into light-wash flare jeans. Embroidered pink and lilac flowers on vines curve up his calves and his lavender vans complete the look. It’s formal, but still comfortable which is what he's going for. </p><p>Definitely not to impress anyone, of course. </p><p>“I <em> do,</em>” Dean says, tone mocking. Then he holds out his arm for Louis and Louis begrudgingly slips his hand into his elbow, ignoring how <em> wrong </em>it feels. </p><p>They enter <em> Alain Ducasse </em>and are escorted to their private table. Louis sucks in a breath when he realizes Harry’s already there, brows furrowed as he jots down something in his binder. He’s on the phone too, murmuring in a low voice as Dean and Louis approach. </p><p>Dean pulls out a chair for him and Louis sends him a sickeningly sweet smile before sitting down, tensing when Dean pulls his own chair close enough for their arms to brush. He’s just trying to play the part but Louis can’t help but recoil from his attempts at selling their relationship. </p><p>Harry continues his conversation on the phone, holding up a finger to inform them that it’ll be just a minute as he nods and tells the person on the other end that he’d be sending them a follow up email to confirm the details. </p><p>Finally, he sets down the phone and smiles at them charmingly. Louis’ eyes stray to his dimple, just as attractive as the first time he saw it across the room at a frat party Liam dragged him to all those years ago. </p><p>He blinks. Fucking hell, what’s wrong with him?</p><p>“Dean, Louis, good to see you guys,” Harry says, nodding slightly. “Hope everything’s well between you two.”</p><p>“Lovely,” Dean answers, switching on his natural charm and completely selling it as he puts an arm around Louis’ shoulders and tugs him closer. </p><p>Louis on the other hand, barely manages to suppress his flinch. Heart pounding, he scolds himself. He will <em> not </em>be the reason they’re found out, especially when Dean is normally the careless one. </p><p>Harry’s staring at them with an unreadable expression, but all he does is clear his throat and return to his binder. “So I have a list of vendors for you guys to approve or deny. Mrs. and Mr. Cartier had some suggestions so I included them but I also found some second choices in case you wanted something -”</p><p>“Oh, we’ll probably just accept them,” Dean interrupts. “Mum and Dad do know best, after all.” He chuckles and Louis doesn’t even bother trying to force a smile. </p><p>Brow raised, Harry surveys them both skeptically. “So… you’d be okay with me just approving their suggestions? Even without knowing more information?” he asks, dubious. </p><p>Louis nudges Dean in the side before he can speak and say something dumb like, “Yes.” He clears his throat. “You can go over them,” he says, fingers curling into fists in an effort to keep his voice steady. “Just in case.”</p><p>They will end up approving everything, Louis knows. It’d be foolish to counter the Cartiers but at least now Harry will be less suspicious. He can’t help but think how it’s something that hasn’t changed about the other man. </p><p>He’s always been so stubborn and set in his ways, determined and strong-willed and <em> ambitious. </em>It’s worked well for his endeavors and Louis had always admired it… before it stabbed him in the back. </p><p>Harry nods at him and then he begins listing off the names of vendors he’s found that would be open to working in such limited time constraints (undoubtedly entranced by the generous offers of payment). </p><p>Louis listens carefully but remains silent for the most part, resolving to bite his tongue. However, it becomes clear to him very quickly that Harry is suggesting vendors that he actually <em> loves </em>the sound of. </p><p>It’s a lot of locally owned businesses that seem to pride themselves on upholding standards of family, love, and warmth. Harry seems to have gone really in depth with it, mentioning the owners by name as well as adding some anecdotal tidbits like about how Larkins Wedding Cakes has been passed to daughter to daughter for the past four generations. Louis would be lying if he said he wasn’t charmed. </p><p>Dean, on the other hand… </p><p>“Don’t you think,” he starts slowly and Louis internally cringes because he <em> knows </em> where this is going, “these vendors aren’t quite the… <em> image </em>we’re going for?”</p><p>Harry raises an eyebrow. “On the contrary, I’m a firm believer that these businesses can craft this <em> ‘image’ </em> you speak of much better than any other business. They put time and effort into everything they do and they pride themselves on living up to the expectations of the client. Besides, didn’t you say you want me to have full creative freedom? These businesses have been selected because I <em> know </em>they can create what I’ve been imagining.”</p><p>Louis bites his lip, a bit satisfied with the lost look on Dean’s face. </p><p>“Right,” he says belatedly, reaching for his water glass and taking a few strained sips. “I’m sure you know best.”</p><p>“I’d like to think so too,” Harry agrees, voice laced with something firm. </p><p>Louis is honestly relieved Dean didn’t put up that much of a fight and that Harry’s getting his way. He’s always wanted a wedding that used primarily local and smaller businesses because they would maintain the warmth and love he wanted to emphasize the most. </p><p>Well, he supposes the most important part of having that sort of wedding would be getting married to somebody he loved. </p><p>Either way, he’s pleased that this is one thing he can appreciate about the ceremony. As if sensing Louis’ contentment, Harry’s eyes flicker to his. </p><p>Exhaling slowly, Louis stares right back, studying those green eyes which he once knew better than anything else. He’s seen them sparkling with mirth when Harry was happy, foggy with distress when he was sad, and darkened with lust when they were-</p><p>He clears his throat, looking away. </p><p>It doesn’t matter if he remembers it all- it’ll never change the fact that Harry threw it all away in favor of prioritizing his career. It’ll never change the fact that Louis will never belong to Harry - that they’ll never belong to each other - ever again. </p><p>Harry doesn’t even have the strength to acknowledge their past and that they already know each other, so Louis finds it hard to believe he’s feeling the same inner turmoil raging in Louis’ stomach. </p><p>Or maybe it’s just hormones. </p><p>That’s another thing Harry and him will never have, Louis thinks bitterly. The family they once dreamed about. Lazy mornings spent wrapped in each other and lips ghosting over the curve of his stomach, murmured promises about how one day Louis would carry their baby, a product of their love. </p><p>The thought of those promises now makes him want to retch again. </p><p>Thankfully, the waiter returns then to ask if they need anything else and then afterwards, Harry moves on to the next topic. Louis is, once again, silent for the rest of the meeting, lips sealed shut with the truth aching to spill between them. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>Dean drops him off at his flat and Louis slunks upstairs, mind throbbing with his usual headache and feet sore in his shoes.</p><p>He unlocks the door and sighs, rubbing his temples as he steps into the flat. </p><p>“Lou,” says a voice. </p><p>Louis stills, turning slowly to see Zayn standing in the living room, face grim. He furrows his brows in confusion before his gaze catches on what’s in Zayn’s hand. </p><p>Nausea rises in his stomach and he exhales, tears forming in his eyes. </p><p>Jay’s worn-out copy of <b>What To Do When You’re Expecting </b>is clutched in Zayn’s hand, his favorite recycled bookmark sticking out at about the half-way point. Zayn looks pale.</p><p>“Is it true?” he asks, voice as low as a whisper. </p><p>Louis stands there silently, chest heaving. He nods jerkily. </p><p>Zayn looks stricken, eyes dropping to Louis’ stomach. “Oh my god, Lou,” he says, dropping the book, “Oh my god.” </p><p>Oh so slowly, Louis staggers to the couch, sinking into the cushions and dropping his head into his hands. He sighs shakily, tears still welling in his eyes. “Surprise?” he offers weakly. </p><p>“How long, babe?” Zayn asks, softening. </p><p>Louis swallows a lump. “Almost seven weeks.” Zayn stares at him. “Size of a blueberry, itty bitty,” he continues faintly. </p><p>“Lou…” Zayn hesitates and Louis knows what he’s going to ask before he says it. “Is that why..?” </p><p>He grimaces, considering lying but ultimately deciding against it. Zayn would see right through him anyway. “Yeah,” he admits, “s’why.” But as much as he wants to, he knows he still can’t tell Zayn the full truth - that he was forced into it, that he’s doing this against his will. </p><p>“Babe, I’m sorry,” Zayn says gently, sitting down beside him and opening his arms. </p><p>Louis falls into himself gratefully, eyes still brimming with his unshed tears. He sniffles, burying his head in his best mate’s neck. “It’s okay, just inconvenient. Gonna make the most of it though.” </p><p>Zayn rubs his back gently. “And I’ll help you,” he swears, “with everything - anything you need. I’ve got your back, <em> always. </em>” </p><p>The tears grow. “Love you, Z,” he murmurs. </p><p>“Love you more,” Zayn says back easily. “Can’t believe you’re going to be a mum.” </p><p>Louis laughs wetly. “Yeah, me either,” he says. He thinks of his own mum who raised him so wonderfully and taught him how to be the best person he can be. It makes him even more sad. “Listen, Z… You can’t tell anyone about it yet,” he bites his lip, “because if the press finds out…” He trails off, shaking his head. “It won’t look good.” He’s not lying by any means but it’s definitely not as much of a concern for him as it is for the Cartiers. </p><p>“I won’t,” Zayn promises. “But who else<em> does </em> know?”</p><p>“You… Dean, Mr and Mrs. Cartier, and my doctor,” he confesses softly. At Zayn’s shocked expression, he rushes to defend himself. “If I told Mum, the girls would end up finding out and you <em> know </em>the twins can’t keep a secret for their life!”</p><p>“And Liam?” Zayn prompts. </p><p>He shakes his head. “I just don’t want to tell too many people and have one of them slip,” he lies. “Maybe I’ll tell him soon,” he adds, just to save face. </p><p>Zayn nods, appeased. “When are you going to tell everyone? A few months after the wedding?”</p><p>“Most likely,” Louis agrees, shrugging. He places a hand on his stomach gently, imagining what it will look like in a few months when his baby slowly becomes a baby. “I guess when we can’t hide it anymore, it’ll become obvious.”</p><p>“And what about Dean?” Zayn wonders. “He’s okay with this all? Were you two dating then?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Louis lies, “we were, but it was completely unexpected. Just… maybe not a bad unexpected? He’s been so supportive though and we both agreed this was the best course of action.” Once again, he yearns for Zayn to call him out on his monotone voice and melancholy eyes, but Zayn doesn’t say anything. He may be suspicious but he’ll always trust Louis first and foremost.</p><p>“That’s good,” Zayn murmurs, “that he’s supportive and you’re both okay with it.”</p><p>Louis forces a smile, nodding. “I knew he was the one already so I couldn’t be too upset,” he says carefully. “I mean - I’m nervous as fuck and I have no idea how to be a mother or how we’re going to do this since Dean’s so busy and <em> I’m </em>so busy but… we’re going to figure it out.” </p><p>By that, he means he’s going to figure it out. He’s going to figure out how to be the best parent he can be because he knows after two years are up, Dean will gladly hand over full custody of their child to Louis without a second thought. He didn’t want a baby this young. To be fair, neither did Louis, but he’s always wanted kids on principle, always wanted to be a mother and have a family. </p><p>His family is just going to be him and his baby, but that’s alright too. </p><p>Zayn hums his acknowledgement to Louis’ concerns and continues rubbing his back. “We <em> will </em>figure out, promise. I’ve got you,” he says again. “You don’t have to go through this alone. You’ve got me… and the Cartiers.” </p><p>And the Cartiers. </p><p>More nausea claws up his throat. If only he knew.</p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>Catering Day arrives before Louis can realize, too wrapped up in working on his and Dean’s suit designs while also beginning to work on the Cartier Autumn line to keep track of the days slipping by, his freedom slipping with it. </p><p>Zayn offers to drive him but he declines, Dean having already informed him that he’d be picking him up and Louis not wanting to inconvenience him by changing plans last-minute. Things are a bit tense between them at the moment. They normally operate on an extreme tolerance level, both warmed up to the other due to being in the same boat. It’s not to say that Louis particularly trusts him because he definitely does not, but he’s remained neutral towards him with the exception of some sharp comments and tension. </p><p>Sometimes he feels like Dean is just as much of a pawn to his parents as he is. </p><p>However, they had a small argument over the phone the day before when Louis confessed that he told Zayn about the pregnancy. He wasn’t going to do it initially but decided to extend an olive branch and aim to improve his and Dean’s partnership and eliminate any lingering resentment only to have Dean freak out and then lecture him about the consequences of the truth coming out for twenty minutes straight. </p><p>Louis assured him Zayn would never tell a soul, too loyal and <em> good </em> to do anything but protect Louis and his privacy, but Dean has been less sure. It’s not like he can entirely blame him - he hasn’t even met Zayn yet and doesn’t know anything about him, doesn’t even know anything about <em> Louis </em>. </p><p>And Louis doesn’t know anything about him either. Yet they’re expected to live and coexist together for two years as a married couple. </p><p>It makes Louis ponder other things. It’s not like he has any remaining romantic or even sexual attraction to the other man, those feelings withering the moment he saw the two lines on the first pregnancy test. But did that mean Louis would be expected to be celibate for two years? Or would they come to a sort of agreement about seeing other people?</p><p>Technically, as per contract, they both have to stay celibate at least until marriage because a cheating scandal would make the whole shotgun marriage seem even more suspicious and it’s not like Louis feels like sleeping with anyone anytime soon, but what about after?</p><p>Plenty of married couples do similar things so it wouldn’t be so outlandish, even if the press found out. The most worrying part is that Louis wouldn’t have actually suffered too much if the first option was true… He hadn’t actually had sex with anyone since he and Harry broke up except one drunken hook-up a couple years ago that he doesn’t remember at all and then of course, Dean which he remembers much too clearly. It’s honestly kind of depressing. </p><p>Don’t get him wrong, he’s dated plenty, but those flings or relationships usually spanned the course of a few weeks or a couple months before fizzling out. He’s never gone beyond handjobs and the occasional blowjob. And then he succumbed to six months of slowly growing attraction and infatuation to the son of his boss and, well, look where that got him. </p><p>Either way, Louis can’t worry about that now. He has to worry about whether their argument will affect their ability to maintain their romantic facade in front of Harry… and anyone else they interact with as well.</p><p>Louis lets Zayn fuss over him before sending him off with a, "Mazay karo." He's dressed in a light blue shirt which matches his eyes and some medium wash ripped mom jeans: casual and safe for the long day he has ahead of him. Zayn’s been being a lot more conscious of everything Louis does, eats, and drinks over the past few days now that he knows. </p><p>He genuinely appreciates it - he just wishes Zayn’s wonderful efforts to support him and his baby didn’t have to include hiding its existence. </p><p>Dean and Harry are talking lowly when Louis arrives, pasting on a fake smile and trying not to grimace when Dean slides an arm around him and kisses his cheek. </p><p>Harry’s got a pinched expression on his face that makes Louis worry about what Dean might have said, but he doesn’t get the chance to explore that possibility when Harry immediately claps his hands together. </p><p>“I hired a local catering company and they’ve prepared some samples of meal options for you to decide,” he explains briskly. “Mrs. Cartier sent me a copy of her ideal menu and I took it into consideration but I also want to make sure you two like the food served at your own wedding.” He pauses and smiles, but it seems a little thin. “We can also discuss things like vegetarian and vegan options for guests as well as any allergies that you know of or want to prepare for just in case.”</p><p>Beginning to walk backwards, he smiles. “Ready?” </p><p>“Let’s do it,” Dean says, sounding unusually chipper and making Louis wince. </p><p>“Yeah,” he agrees, a beat too late. </p><p>Harry introduces them to Diana and Kelsey, the co-owners of the catering company as well as George, who’d be overseeing their menu especially. All three of them are lovely, cooing over Louis’ wedding ring and explaining their options for appetizers and entrees and everything between. </p><p>Everything they taste is incredible and he finds himself asking for more servings, glad he didn’t pick one of his tighter jeans to wear today. He hadn’t been expecting to enjoy the process so much, especially when he’s <em> seen </em>the kind of food Mrs. Cartier serves at dinner parties and it seems to be that his wedding is of the same kin. </p><p>But there’s lobster and fajitas and homemade pizza and a bunch of other selections that seemed to have been plucked straight from his brain. He’s a bit in awe of it actually, unable to help himself from sliding his gaze over to Harry across the table. </p><p>Is it possible that…?</p><p>No, that’d be ridiculous. He brushes away the thought, ducking his chin to his chest and grimacing. It’s just fate, he supposes.</p><p>At one point Dean goes to the bathroom, leaving Louis and Harry alone as they try to finalize the appetizers. Harry seems totally focused, asking lots of questions and discussing the best options for making sure every guest will have something to enjoy, dietary restrictions or allergies included. </p><p>For a moment, while Diana is pushing some bacon wrapped dates into his hands to taste and Harry is commenting on the texture of the corn croquettes, it feels awfully like he’s in a different world. A world where he’s getting married for real, happily on the road to getting hitched to his college sweetheart with a baby on the way and an elegant and non-flashy ring on his finger.</p><p>But then Dean comes back and Louis glances down and sees the same gaudy diamond on his ring finger that was there this morning and that world turns to air.</p><p>He sighs and stuffs another bacon wrapped date into his mouth. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>Vanessa is the lady who’s in charge of all the floral arrangements for the wedding - from their centerpieces to Louis’ bouquet. </p><p>They’re sitting at a table in her flower shop, surrounded by gorgeous blooms of every hue imaginable. Louis can’t stop looking around, wishing he was always surrounded by flowers and their sweet scents and beautiful petals. </p><p>It’s the twenty-third, also known as Flower Day. Louis is dressed in a pale yellow shirt and light wash mom jeans with rips in the knee, sprigs of lavender embroidered up the lower legs of the pants. He’s wearing platform vintage sneakers too - these ones are white with pale yellow details. He likes matching, what can he say? </p><p>There’s a deep urge within him to get up and buy a few flowers to tuck behind his ear, the giddiness that only plants can ignite in him sprouting in his insides. He’s smiling uncontrollably, unfazed by Dean’s moody silence or the fact that Harry’s sitting next to him and hasn’t glanced at him even once. </p><p>Nothing can bother him when there are flowers around. </p><p>“I have a few centerpiece options,” Vanessa says, spreading them out on the table. “Harry told me that the theme for your wedding involves lavender as a main color so the examples I’ve come up with all heavily emphasize that.”</p><p>Louis stills, glancing at Harry who is still concentrating on Vanessa studiously. He picked lavender as a theme color? He remembers Louis’ favorite color? </p><p><em> No, </em> Louis thinks. Anyone can tell just by looking at him that it’s a color he’s fond of, but… Harry specifically chose it as a theme color. <em> He </em> chose it <em> specifically. </em> The thought makes his heart pound, confused and unsure how to react. </p><p>“They look lovely,” he says honestly, throat dry. Vanessa has five sketches and all of them are beautiful, but there’s one that’s caught Louis’ eye in particular. The one right in the center with tall sprigs of lavender, pale yellow daffodils, and pale purple baby’s breath to tie it all together. </p><p>“I like that one best,” Dean says, pointing to the far right which is more traditional, featuring carnations and roses. Of course, it’s the one that’s most drastically different than the one Louis likes most. </p><p>He sighs, already anticipating either having to argue or resign himself to what Dean wants. But before he can open his mouth, Harry interrupts. </p><p>“Pardon me for saying but,” he begins, frowning. He points to the middle one - Louis’ favorite one. “I think this will go best with the vision we’re going for. It’s got a very elegant and understated look to it and I think it’ll match better.” </p><p>Dean just shrugs. “You’re the wedding planner.”</p><p>Louis glances at Harry and this time he <em> is </em>looking back at him. His breath catches, heart racing as Harry clears his throat and looks away. </p><p>It’s like - it’s like Harry <em> knows </em> exactly what Louis wants and is planning everything around it. But that’s ridiculous, Louis thinks. Why would Harry do that? And moreso, how would he even remember? It’s been <em> years </em> - of course he doesn’t remember that Louis’ favorite flowers are daffodils and his favorite colors are pale yellow and lavender and he prefers a more subtle, elegant look compared to bold and big. </p><p>It’s just a coincidence, he tells himself. That, or he’s just really observant. These aren’t deep, dark secrets or anything. He could have figured it all out based on how Louis dresses-</p><p>Or he could be not paying any attention to Louis at all because why would he? He’s here to plan a wedding, nothing else. </p><p>They continue discussing the options and Louis has to tamp down his grin when Vanessa brings out the options for his bouquet, sure that actual hearts are coming from his eyes. There’s six options total but it doesn’t take Louis longer than a minute to decide that the second one - the one that matches the centerpiece design he already chose with the addition of roses for good luck - is for him. </p><p>Vanessa lets Louis keep the sketch when he asks and he folds it up and tucks it into his pocket, already knowing he’ll be pulling it out and staring at it many times in the next coming weeks. </p><p>Harry is looking at him again when he glances over, face frustratingly impassive. </p><p>Eventually Vanessa has to return to her post and handle her own customers so they say goodbye and then Louis and Harry awkwardly make their way to the front of the store.</p><p>“So…” Harry says slowly. </p><p>Louis scrambles for something to say - something <em> normal </em>and rational and pleasant. “Why did you pretend like you don’t know me?” he blurts, horror following as the question registers in his own brain.</p><p>He - he just asked Harry why he pretended, completely unprovoked and unnecessarily. </p><p>Harry blinks at him, taken aback, then frowns. “I…” he starts, at a loss of words. “I wanted to be professional,” he says, almost defensively. </p><p>“And acknowledging that you know me is unprofessional?” Louis asks flatly, brows furrowing. </p><p>“I don’t want to cause any trouble with your fiancé,” Harry says stiffly. “It’s not like it matters anyway,” he adds. </p><p>Louis scoffs. “Right, I got that pretty clearly.” </p><p>Harry frowns. “What does that mean?” </p><p>“Nothing,” Louis shakes his head, sighing. What is he doing? Arguing with his ex-boyfriend when he’s got dozens of much bigger problems to be worrying about?. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. I was being stupid.”</p><p>They don’t speak for a while. Technically, Louis could walk away right now and escape the awkward tension crackling between them, but something is rooting him to his spot, keeping him from walking away. </p><p>Harry isn’t leaving either, standing about five feet away with his phone in one hand and trusty binder in the other. “So, I thought you were in New York," he says when he catches Louis' eye. </p><p>“I was,” Louis frowns, baffled as to how Harry would know that. </p><p>“I’ve heard a few things online and in magazines about a certain talented rising fashion designer named Louis Tomlinson,” Harry smiles, his tone lightening some of the tense mood from before.</p><p>Louis does not blush - he doesn’t. </p><p>“Well, I only moved back less than a year ago,” he says after a pause. He definitely does not tell Harry that the reason he went to New York in the first place was to escape him. “I was offered a higher-ranking position in the London branch and the chance to eventually help design the Spring launch so it seemed like an easy decision.”</p><p>“You’ve been doing well for yourself,” Harry notes gently. “That’s great, Louis. You’ve always been so talented.”</p><p>So now he’s acknowledging their past? Louis bites his lip. “You’ve been doing well for yourself too,” he says cautiously. “Best wedding planner in London?” </p><p>Harry chuckles. “I don't know about that.” </p><p>“I never would have thought you’d end up planning events and running your own business," he admits carefully. Harry had always been so conflicted on what he wanted to do but at the same time, he seemed so unaffected by it all. </p><p>He wonders now if Harry had been more bothered than he let on and Louis just never saw it. </p><p>“To be honest, I never would have guessed either,” Harry says, lips twitching. “I don't know if you remember but I’ve always been pretty good at hosting parties and planning events and things like that. Then Gemma made a comment after I helped her settle details for her wedding when her wedding planner bailed about how I might as well start a business and I just… got to thinking I guess. I didn't want to limit myself to one particular event so I do a bit of everything, but weddings have always been my favorite. Over time, thanks to recommendations and being able to establish myself as a good name, I've been able to prioritize them. It's a really rewarding job, helping people make their dreams come true and all.”</p><p>“That’s… that’s great, Harry,” Louis says, stomach churning a bit. <em>Make their dreams come true. </em>If only that were all it was for him too. "I’m glad you found what you were looking for," he murmurs softly, nothing but sincerity in the smooth tenor of his voice. </p><p>Harry frowns at that but doesn’t say anything. “How did you and Dean meet?” he asks after a moment. </p><p>Louis stills, panic bubbling up. <em> You have the story down, </em>he tells himself. He’s got this. “We, um, interacted at company events and parties many times in the past, but we worked in different departments so it took us a while to get past that polite acquaintance stage. I was assigned to the Spring launch last Fall and he was heading the marketing for it so that’s when we really got close.” He shrugs. “It happened really fast but when he proposed, it wasn’t even a question to me. I just knew, I guess.”</p><p>“Whirlwind romance?” Harry supplies, clearing his throat. “Cute.” </p><p>Biting his lip, Louis resists the urge to gag. Once again, he wonders how he ended up here. Having his ex-boyfriend say his fake relationship story is cute while they stand outside the florist for their fake wedding that said ex-boyfriend is also planning. “Something like that,” he murmurs, suddenly eager to get out of here. </p><p>He turns to Harry and plasters on an apologetic smile. “I actually have to go into the studio and work on my suit in a bit, so…”</p><p>Harry nods, “Of course. I actually have to meet with the director of the orchestra for the wedding. It’s a local group but they’re really good.” </p><p>“A local group?” Louis blurts incredulously. “Mrs. Cartier was okay with that?” He nearly slaps his hand over his mouth, horrified with himself. </p><p>To his surprise, Harry just chuckles. “I convinced her to let me choose one. Said it would give the wedding a charitable look which she was very pleased about.”</p><p>Louis smiles at that and immediately feels guilty. Did he just shade his future mother-in-law in front of his ex-boyfriend? He did, didn’t he? Jesus Christ. He really needs to get out of here. “Um, it was good to talk to you, Harry. See you soon,” he says, already inching away. </p><p>Harry blinks in surprise, raising a hand and resting it on the back of his head. Louis definitely does not pay attention to the way the movement highlights the way the fabric of his suit jacket clings to the lines of his bicep, more defined than he remembers. “It was good talking to you too,” he says, before hesitating. His brows draw together as he bites his lip. “Louis… I know things didn’t, um, end the best between us - most of which is my fault -” Louis nearly gapes at that, not prepared for Harry to so casually take responsibility like that, “ - but I just want you to know that I meant it when I said I want to be professional, but I also really hope we can be friends. I’d like to be, anyway. And I’m going to do my best to make sure your wedding is perfect… like you deserve.”</p><p>He smiles uneasily, looking nervous. </p><p>At a loss for words, Louis opens his mouth, no words coming out. “That’s - that’s nice of you, Harry,” he says finally, hoping there isn’t a flush spreading across his cheeks. That would be embarrassing. “I’d like to be friends too.” </p><p>“Great,” Harry says, grinning widely now.</p><p>Louis narrows in on the dimple in his cheek, heart panging unexpectedly. </p><p>“Well, I won’t keep you any longer,” Harry continues. “I’ll see you and Dean in two days!”</p><p>“Right,” Louis says, nodding. He begins walking backwards again, heart racing. “Thank you! Bye, Harry!”</p><p>“Bye, Louis,” Harry says back and Louis turns around, speed-walking to his car and seriously second guessing his decision. Friends with Harry? Is that even possible? </p><p>They were friends before dating in the first year of uni but that had lasted a grand total of three weeks before Harry confessed his feelings and asked him out on the front steps of Louis’ dormitory building in his black ripped jeans and white shirt, a red snapback perched on his head and a hopeful smile on his face. </p><p>Friends for three weeks in which Louis caught feelings faster than he ever had before, entranced by Harry’s confident but sweet demeanor and endless charm, three weeks where they flirted almost excessively, three weeks where it was incredibly obvious that they really weren’t just friends. </p><p>Louis hadn’t been able to be friends with Harry Styles then, and he has no fucking idea if he can manage it now. That he’ll be able to be just friends with his ex-boyfriend and the only person he had ever seen himself marrying while he’s currently ‘marrying’ Dean and hiding multiple massive secrets. In other words, there’s a very good possibility that Louis has made a very big mistake. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>Their next wedding task has them meeting their event coordinator, Niall Horan, who is introduced to them by Harry as his best friend.</p><p>Louis feels a weird feeling ignite in his chest after Harry says the words, struck with the weight of sadness as he realizes just how much things have changed since college. Harry’s best friend is no longer Liam - they haven’t spoken in <em> years </em>and now Harry has Niall to confide in and talk to. </p><p>It shouldn’t feel as unsettling as it does.</p><p>Niall sidles up to him when they’re looking at layouts of the venue. Harry is pointing out the locations of where the food will be, the music, and which guests will be sitting where. </p><p>“So you’re the famous Louis,” he says and Louis jumps, taken aback.</p><p>“Um, I suppose so,” Louis says, uneasiness growing within him as Niall surveys him thoughtfully. So he has no qualms acknowledging him and Harry’s past, unlike Harry himself. <em> Professional, </em> he scoffs. </p><p>“You’re exactly his type,” Niall nods, looking like he’s been validated in one of his thoughts. “Like, <em> exactly.”  </em></p><p>Louis bristles at that, confused and maybe a bit disgruntled at the notion of Harry dating or hooking up with someone who looked like him. Or maybe he’s just being crazy again. “I don’t really know what to say to that, frankly.”</p><p>Niall just smiles at him. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Louis. I’ve been dying to know what exactly has Harry so hung -”</p><p>A loud clearing of a throat interrupts them and they both turn to see a frowning Harry and bewildered Dean. Niall murmurs his apologies as Harry glares at him, gesturing for him to continue on. Louis stays silent. </p><p>He doesn’t know what Niall was going to say but he’s got an inkling. It makes him feel even more confused than ever. If Harry had supposedly been hung up on him, then why did he ever leave Louis in the first place?</p><p>The more he thinks about, the more annoyed he gets. He meant it when he said he never really got over the heartbreak of Harry ending things. It was a wound that never healed and now it feels like it’s opening up back again, raw and painful. </p><p>Harry seems a bit subdued as the meeting progresses. Niall takes over in the talking and Louis realizes that he’s damn good at his job, moving from topic to topic efficiently but thoroughly. </p><p>“How are we going with the suit?” Niall asks, sending Louis a pointed look. “We want to make sure the colors and everything will match you and your groomsmen.”</p><p>“Groomsmen and groomswomen,” he corrects, biting his lip. “It’s coming along,” he says honestly. “I’m going into the studio tomorrow to finish the full design and then it’s a matter of putting it together. The outfits for the wedding party are actually pretty much finished. We just need to finish the details and schedule a fitting.” Liam had offered to head those designs along with Bebe and Louis honestly wanted to cry when they showed him the designs, so beautiful and elegant. They weren’t even for him but the fact that they offered and were so dedicated makes him feel an inexplicable happiness. </p><p>“Great, do that by the end of the month,” Niall says briskly, scribbling a note on his phone. </p><p>“He means, it would be great if you did that by the end of the month,” Harry adds, giving Louis an apologetic look. </p><p>Louis nods at him, brushing it off. He assumes Niall is just very focused and this is how he always is but as the meeting progresses and Niall’s attitude towards him remains blunt and curt, he realizes there’s an underlying personal vendetta in his behavior and that annoys him. </p><p>See, the only logical motivation to his resentment would be that he and Harry used to date. It’s some sort of shitty protective best friend act and it grates on Louis’ nerves. He has no right to treat Louis a certain way based on his own preconceived judgements of him that are based on nothing but Harry’s side of the story. The thought of Harry describing him badly to one of his best friends occurs to him too and the thought makes him nauseous. </p><p>Harry would never do that, right?</p><p>Dean leaves a bit early because he has a meeting to get to, pressing a chaste kiss to Louis’ cheek that leaves him with a rotten feeling in his gut, especially when he glances at Niall to see the contempt on his face. </p><p>Then it’s just the three of them and Louis itches to find a way out. </p><p>“Right, so,” Niall continues, scanning his phone. “Louis, did you get all that in the meeting or were you zoning out?”</p><p>Shock prickling at his insides, he inhales deeply, annoyance rising in him at being called out so unprovokedly. Yeah, he was zoning out - his stomach hurt and he felt queasy, but that didn’t mean he didn’t get everything. “Yeah, I did,” he says flatly, right as Harry says, “Niall,” in a warning tone. </p><p>Niall gives him a fake smile. “Sorry, just in a crabby mood,” he says, not sounding sorry at all.</p><p>“Maybe don’t skip the morning coffee next time,” Louis says, sick of the attitude. “Not that that’s a valid excuse for acting like an entitled ass.” He feels a bit guilty right after, opening his mouth to apologize. </p><p>Harry lets out a loud laugh before he can say anything, surprising all three of them going by the look on his face. He clears his throat, smiling apologetically. </p><p>Louis has to bite back his smile, a warm feeling curling in his stomach. </p><p>To his surprise, Niall looks amused too. “Touché, Tomlinson. Touché.” </p><p>“Now, stop acting like a dick,” Harry says to him, amused. </p><p>Niall scowls at that. “I wasn’t being a dick -”</p><p>He and Harry snort in unison, exchanging smiles while Niall huffs. </p><p>“Okay, fine, I was,” he relents, crossing his arms. He gives Harry a pointed look. “Don’t you have to call the photographer?”</p><p>Harry groans, looking reluctant as he nods. “Now <em> that </em>guy is definitely a dick,” he grumbles, frowning. “But Mrs. Cartier wants him so.” He shrugs. </p><p>Louis ignores the way his apprehension rises as Harry excuses himself to make the call, striding across the room and leaving Louis alone with Niall who immediately clears his throat. </p><p>“I’m sorry for giving you a hard time,” he says, sounding genuinely remorseful. </p><p>“I forgive you,” Louis says easily. He doesn’t really expect Niall to be super nice to him in general, especially knowing that Zayn and even Liam would be the same, if not <em> worse </em>in the same circumstances. Niall is biased to Harry, just like they're biased to Louis - it's just the way friendships work. </p><p>Niall glances over to Harry and Louis looks too, eyes trailing over the line of his jaw as he argues with someone on the phone. </p><p><em>He’s so handsome,</em> he thinks dazedly. It’s really quite unfair. </p><p>“You know this is hard for him,” Niall says quietly, interrupting his train of thoughts. </p><p>Louis looks at him in shock. It is? “It’s hard for me too,” he blurts, before chuckling bitterly. “If anything it’s <em> harder </em> for me. You don’t - <em> he </em> broke up with <em> me.</em> I'm honestly glad Harry has someone like you to look out for him and take his side but you weren't there when it happened, mate. I was the one taken off guard and then heartbroken. I was the one left behind. You don’t know how much Harry ending it hurt me.” </p><p>Niall looks sad when he responds, “I don’t, you’re right. But I know how much it hurt him that he hurt you. I know how much he thinks about that time of his life and how much he agonizes over it. And I can’t speak for him or anything, but I know there’s a lot of regret there. I was there when Harry came back from New York.” </p><p>Brows furrowed, Louis rears back. <em> When Harry came back from New York? </em>Before he can say anything or ask for clarification, Niall’s phone rings and he excuses himself, leaving Louis rooted to the spot behind. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>“Oh my god, Lou, it’s gorgeous!” Bebe says, peering over his shoulder to see his sketch. </p><p>He blushes, a small smile on his face as he darkens the lines of the suit jacket, studying the work he’s done in the past couple of hours. “Thanks, love.” </p><p>They’re at the studio and they’ve finished up the necessary work for the Fall line in order to keep up with the schedule, now free to tinker around with Louis’ wedding designs. </p><p>It’s the 29th and the fitting for the wedding party is tomorrow afternoon but that’s not all. The Cartiers decided to throw an impromptu engagement party for the last day of the month. It adds even more tension to Louis while he’s still mentally preparing himself for the fitting, also known as all of his closest friends in the same room as his ex-boyfriend, including <em> Liam </em>, or his ex-boyfriend’s ex-best friend. </p><p>They’ve finalized the orchestra (the local one Harry had wanted) and chosen a wedding song much to his disgust. He had almost physically recoiled when Harry asked them if they had a song. His surprise made it so he barely faltered when Dean said Can’t Help Falling In Love by Elvis Presley, also known as one of the most common wedding songs of all time. </p><p>Louis likes the song quite a bit actually, and it already fits their relationship narrative, but he really doesn’t want to taint the song with memories of his forced shotgun wedding. Then again, he’d prefer not to taint <em> any </em> song with his forced shotgun wedding, but that’s out of the question. </p><p>Either way, things are getting checked off the list and the big day is coming closer and closer. He and Dean had gone out last night solely for the purpose of being seen together, hands linked and fake smiles on their faces. This morning he awoke to the pictures circulating and rumors galore. He called his mum on instinct, using the opportunity to catch her up on everything that happened. The conversation unfortunately included a lot of gushing about how excited he is and how ready he is to be married already which took away most of the comfort he normally gets from talking to her. </p><p>He was almost disappointed when she didn’t notice the strain in his tone either, telling him that she’d be at the party to meet Dean properly (they were introduced over the phone but they haven’t met in person and Louis is dreading the moment). </p><p>Liam strides in, arms full with garment bags. “These are mine and Zayn’s suits!” he explains, grinning. </p><p>Louis and Bebe go over to see them, ooing and ahing when Liam shows them the lavender ties embroidered with little vines and flowers that’ll match some of the embellishments on the dresses and on Louis’ suit. </p><p>“We’re going to look so good,” Bebe squeals, holding her own dress up to her body and spinning for emphasis. </p><p>“Everything’s set,” Louis asks anxiously. “What about the fabric for my suit? There’s enough left, right?”</p><p>Bebe and Liam exchange exasperated glances. “Yes and yes,” Liam assures him. He takes in Louis’ rigid posture, softening. “Everything’s going to be okay.”</p><p>“Lou, babe, you need to <em> relax, </em>” Bebe chides him, less gentle. “I know you’re stressed about wedding things and it’s normal but you need to let loose too! This is supposed to be a happy time!”</p><p>Louis exhales through his nose, forcing his shoulders to untense. He offers a wobbly smile. “I’m just overwhelmed,” he says honestly. His hand goes to his stomach almost on instinct, guilt bubbling up when he realizes what he’s doing. Neither Bebe or Liam know about the baby and he suddenly feels awful about hiding it from them. </p><p>Frowning as she takes in Louis’ blanched expression, Bebe claps her hands together. “That’s it. Lou, you need to have some fun.” She grabs her phone and furrows her shaped brows, looking for something. A moment later, the telltale notes of <em> We Are the Champions </em>ring from the speaker as Bebe increases the volume and fills the studio with music. </p><p>After that song, they blast Beyonce, singing along at the top of their lungs to Crazy in Love and more. He unfortunately has to grit his teeth through Single Ladies, pasting on a smile and showing off his ring when Bebe points at him during the chorus, but despite that, he feels as if a weight has been lifted off his chest. </p><p>Genuine smiles and even a laugh are pulled from his throat when Bebe yanks him to the floor and they dance around the tables. Liam grumbles at them but begrudgingly joins in when they give him his best pleading face, twirling Louis around and dipping him when requested. </p><p>He feels light when the last song fades away and they start cleaning up, lips curved up and seeming to stay even as he says goodbye to Bebe and Liam and calls out a farewell to Steve (who’s been holed up on the phone with the shipping company for the past hour) and leaves to go home. </p><p>His smile fades when his phone buzzes and he checks it, seeing that Zayn (who was going to pick him up after his meeting) is going to be late. He has Louis’ car so Louis is basically stranded until he arrives. Bebe takes the Tube and so does Liam most times and he knows Steve won’t be leaving anytime soon either. </p><p>Sighing, he wonders if there’s something he can work on for a bit until Zayn comes. Mind racing, he turns to head back to the elevator and walks straight into a firm torso. </p><p>“Louis?” says a voice. <em> Harry.  </em></p><p>He stills, color flooding his cheeks as he looks up at the man in embarrassment. He’s dressed impeccably as always in a white button down opened to reveal his swallow tattoos and black slacks. </p><p>“Hi,” he squeaks belatedly. “What’re you doing here?”</p><p>Harry sticks his hands in his pocket, tilting his head to gesture vaguely in the direction of the elevator. “Meeting with the Cartiers.” </p><p>“About what?” Louis wonders, brows furrowing. </p><p>There’s a hint of guilt on Harry’s face before he confesses, “They request an appointment every few days for an update on the wedding things, and, um, to remind me of their expectations.”</p><p>Grimacing, Louis nods. “I see.”</p><p>“What about you? Are you working?” He glances behind Louis to the door. “Or… leaving?”</p><p>“Supposed to be leaving,” he nods in agreement, “but Zayn’s going to be late in picking me up, so.”</p><p>“Who’s Zayn?” Harry asks, frowning. </p><p>“My best mate,” Louis says easily. “Well, one of two. He’s got my car so I have to wait.”</p><p>“Is Liam the other?” Harry asks carefully, a peculiar expression on his face - like he’s hoping for a certain answer. </p><p>“Yes,” Louis smiles, and Harry smiles too, but sadly. </p><p>“I haven’t seen him in years,” he murmurs.</p><p><em> And whose fault is that? </em>Louis thinks, but bites his tongue. “He’s going to be there tomorrow,” he says. </p><p>Harry suddenly looks a bit pale. “Right.” He rakes a hand through his hair absentmindedly, eyes flickering over to the door. “Um, would you like a ride?”</p><p>Louis blinks in surprise, fumbling for a response as Harry stares at him expectantly. “Sure,” he blurts, ears hot as he smiles hesitantly. “Thanks, Harry.”</p><p>“Of course,” Harry brushes off. He gestures to the door, seeming as awkward as Louis feels. “Are you ready to go now?”</p><p>He nods and follows Harry outside, almost blushing when Harry holds the door for him. <em> Still a gentleman, </em>he thinks as they walk into the parking lot.</p><p>Harry also opens the passenger seat door for him, waiting for Louis to sit comfortably before closing it and heading around to the driver’s seat. His car smells like Harry - Tom Ford cologne, a heady mix of tobacco and vanilla that Louis can’t help but inhale.</p><p>“So how’s the suit going?” Harry asks, flicking through the radio stations until he finds one playing Fleetwood Mac. </p><p>Louis doesn’t answer immediately, blindsided with memories of car rides just like this where they’d be holding hands over the center console and laughing or talking as Stevie Nicks crooned in the background.</p><p>A burst of nostalgia and yearning hits him straight in the gut and he nearly chokes on his next breath from shock. </p><p>“Um, it’s good,” he manages to get out, voice scratchy. “We finalized the design so now all that’s left is to put it together.”</p><p>“That’s good,” Harry says, humming along to the radio as he pulls out of the lot. “So where are we going?”</p><p>Right. Giving Harry his address might be useful in this situation. He rattles it off to Harry, jumping in surprise when he whistles appreciatively. </p><p>“That’s a nice neighborhood,” he comments. </p><p>“Yeah,” Louis says after a beat, utterly lost on how to respond. Clearing his throat, he decides to switch the conversation to Harry. “How did you and Niall meet?”</p><p>Harry chuckles. “I met him through a wedding actually. He was the event coordinator and I was the wedding planner and we actually butted heads at one point but we made amends and worked together to make the best wedding possible for the bride and groom… We were both invited to the reception and we hung out the entire time. Fast forward a year and a half and here we are.”</p><p>“Here we are,” Louis echoes. </p><p>“He’s a good guy,” Harry adds after a moment, sounding apologetic. “I know he was being an asshole but he’s not normally like that - well, most of the time.”</p><p>“I’m sure he is,” Louis says gently. “I don’t think you’d be best mates with an asshole, Harry," he teases right after.</p><p>“I appreciate that,” Harry grins. They fall into comfortable silence, instantly broken as Bohemian Rhapsody starts playing and they instantly both sing along. It’s like a natural reaction, no self-conscious thoughts or awkwardness between them. </p><p>Louis can’t deny he’s missed the sound of Harry’s voice when he sings, how deep and hoarse it can get when he sings low and how he can evoke so much emotion so easily. </p><p>He’s forgotten how their voices fit together too, his higher and softer notes melding in with Harry’s crisp baritone. They sing through the entire song together.</p><p>It strikes Louis then how fucking easy it is between them. They’ve barely begun talking again and already they’re singing in the car like boyfriends while Harry drives him home. There’s no layer of awkwardness or hesitance in either of them - it’s just so simple. It almost makes his head hurt. </p><p>But most of all, it feels nice. <em> He </em>feels nice. There’s a curling of something warm in his chest when they arrive at Louis’ flat and Harry says goodbye to him. </p><p>He murmurs a soft, “See you tomorrow, Harry,” before turning around and heading to the door. He refrains from looking back no matter how much he wants to, but he doesn’t even need to look to know that Harry is going to wait until he’s safely inside before he even thinks of leaving. It makes that feeling grow bigger, a smile curving his lips as he heads for the elevator. </p><p>Happy. He’s happy. He’s not thinking about the wedding or his own misery - he’s genuinely happy for the first time in a few weeks. And it feels good - feels amazing even. </p><p>It maybe makes him feel like things will be okay. He’s got friends who notice him and care about him. Liam and Bebe may not know why Louis is so stressed or distant, but there’s no doubt that they’ll always be there for him. He’s not alone. </p><p>Glancing down at his stomach which he places a gentle hand over, he smiles. He’s <em> definitely </em>not alone. He won’t be alone even when he goes home on his wedding night to an empty bed. He’s got a baby in his stomach and a fake fiance, but he’s also got his family and Zayn and Liam and Bebe and Steve and Perrie, Jade, Leigh-Anne, and Jesy. And maybe he’s got Harry too… He thinks he kind of really likes the sound of that. </p><p>When he goes to bed that night, he sleeps an entire ten hours. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>The fitting goes by slowly and Louis feels anxious. </p><p>Since he and Liam and Bebe designed and ordered the dresses, they decided to host the fitting in the studio so now Louis is here with all his closest friends, Dean and his closest friends, and <em> Harry.  </em></p><p>It’s not the fitting itself that’s making him concerned. Everyone takes turns getting dressed while either Bebe or Liam take notes on any adjustments that need to be made. The problem lies with the forced interaction for those who aren’t being fitted at a time. </p><p>Dean hasn’t met most of his friends so Louis is forced to introduce him to Perrie, Leigh-Anne, Jade, and Jesy, playing up the affection and hoping they can’t tell how much he really doesn’t want to be here. </p><p>He lets them fawn over his ring for a bit, having never seen it in person. They hug him tight and he savors it, trying not to cry when Jade whispers how happy she is for him. </p><p>Zayn and Dean met that morning since Dean drove them both here so they don’t have to make a round to him. It had gone just as flawlessly as the introduction to the girls. Dean Cartier is an ass sometimes but he’s a good actor when he needs to be, walking around with Louis with an arm around his waist and a happy smile on his face as he chats with his friends. </p><p>Louis meets Dean’s friends too. Most of them are in the company so Louis knows of them vaguely but he still scrambles to keep up with them all, names and occupations and voices getting tangled in his head as he just tries to smile naturally and make a good impression. </p><p>It doesn’t help that he gets distracted by Harry in the corner of his eye. He’s going around and introducing himself to everyone too, shaking hands and being effortlessly charming as always. Louis sees Bebe laugh at something Harry says and then he panics because Harry is heading to where Zayn is standing in his suit, letting Liam pin the excess fabric of his jacket to mark where he needs to cut later on. </p><p>Dean’s friend - Andrew? - is talking about his new sports car or something and Louis nods when the others do, trying not to inch away from the hand Dean has on the small of his back while simultaneously trying to strain to see as Harry taps Liam on the shoulder. </p><p>His view is blocked when another one of Dean’s friends - Chad? - guffaws loudly and steps back. Louis jumps at the sound, feeling Dean press his fingers to his back in warning. He chuckles forcedly though he has no idea what’s so funny and doesn’t really want to know. </p><p>When he gets another glimpse, it’s of Harry and Liam and Zayn in conversation. They’re on the other side of the room so Louis can’t see their expressions or tell what’s going on. All he can do is stand there anxiously, palms sweating as his mind races with the possibilities. </p><p><em> It’s fine, </em>he tells himself. No one is yelling or screaming, just talking like normal adults. Talking, they’re just talking. And it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s not like Liam making up with Harry and Zayn having a good impression of him is important, or, more important than their impressions of Dean. </p><p>He freezes, horror growing as he realizes he does feel like it’s more important. </p><p>“Louis,” Dean grits, ducking down to whisper in his ear and following it with a kiss to his temple that makes Louis want to gag. “Don’t fuck this up.” </p><p>“I won’t,” Louis says through his faux smile. </p><p>He forces himself not to look again, stiffening when, “Lou!” is called out in Liam’s voice a few minutes later. He walks over, annoyed when Dean follows. </p><p>Harry is talking animatedly to Zayn a few feet away and Zayn is nodding along, looking interested in whatever he’s talking about. Louis watches them carefully, also taking note of how good Harry looks in his flared yellow trousers and black unbuttoned shirt, tips of his swallow tattoos peeking out alluringly. It’s honestly a crime how he can make anything work just as well now as he used to in uni. </p><p>“Lou, I want to take your measurements for the suit because the fabric is arriving tomorrow morning and we want to start as soon as possible,” Liam explains, holding out his tape measure. </p><p>Uneasiness rises in Louis when he realizes Liam will want his waist measurement and he’ll have to take off his loose light yellow sweater. He’s still not showing too much but there’s a definite curve there that hadn’t been there before. “Um, I can do it,” he says. </p><p>“You can measure your own height?” Liam says, amused. </p><p>“No -” Louis shakes his head. “Never mind.” </p><p>He stands stiffly with his arms out, pointedly not taking his sweater off yet. Thankfully Liam goes with it, measuring his height and then his jacket length and inseam. He does the arms too before clearing his throat. “You need to take off your sweater for the chest and waist measurements, Lou.”</p><p>Grimacing, Louis swallows down on the potent panic clawing up his throat. “Um, I can do them tomorrow?”</p><p>Liam looks confused at that. “But it’d be easier for me to do it right now?”</p><p>“C’mon, babe,” says Dean. </p><p>“I can’t,” Louis grits, hoping that for once Dean will actually try and help make things easier rather than making them more difficult. </p><p>Dean sighs exaggeratedly, turning to Liam. “Let him do it tomorrow,” he says and Louis exhales, surprise and relief bubbling up inside him. Unfortunately, it’s short lived. “Louis just feels embarrassed about gaining weight.”</p><p>Louis freezes, heart dropping to his stomach right as the loud words process. Liam is gawking, looking between them in shock. </p><p>He doesn’t want to, but he forces himself to look over to where Harry and Zayn had abruptly stopped talking, both of them staring and leaving no doubt in Louis’ head that they heard. Embarrassment and mortification ignite within him and he blushes bright red. </p><p>“Right,” he says after a beat, skin suddenly clammy. “Um, I’m going to the bathroom.” </p><p>He walks away right as his eyes start prickling, humiliated and angry beyond words. It takes him a second to realize Zayn followed him, grabbing his arm and spinning him around as soon as he steps out of the room. </p><p>“What the fuck was that?” Zayn exclaims, looking livid and like he’s going to slap someone. Slap Dean, to be exact. </p><p>Louis doesn’t even know how to explain, shaking his head and willing the tears to go away. “He panicked,” he says weakly. “We can’t tell anyone about the baby.” </p><p>“That was so fucking rude though,” Zayn argues, eyes flashing. “He said it without hesitating! And in front of everyone too." </p><p>Flinching, Louis looks down. “How many people do you think heard?” To his horror, his vision goes blurry, tears filling his eyes and slipping down his cheeks. </p><p>“Hey, no, don’t cry, Lou,” Zayn soothes, pulling him into a tight hug.  </p><p>Louis stumbles away from it, shaking his head as he gasps for breath. “Not on the suit,” he scolds when he’s able to, sniffling loudly. He wipes his eyes with shaking fingers. “I’m fine, I promise. Just hormonal.”</p><p>Zayn still looks pissed when he’s able to focus again. “What the fuck is wrong with him?”</p><p>“He didn’t mean it like that,” Louis shakes his head, even though it’s a pitiful defense. He takes a few deep breaths. “Just - let me deal with it, yeah?” He pulls out his phone to check his reflection, making sure his eyes don’t look too puffy. </p><p>When he glances at Zayn, he looks grave. </p><p>“Is everything okay, Louis?” he asks gently. </p><p>Louis pastes on a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, Z,” he says. “Dean was a dick for saying that but he genuinely didn’t mean it like that. He’s just tired and stressed. We’re both tired and stressed.”</p><p>“Doesn’t excuse what he said,” Zayn grumbles. He still looks solemn. “Lou… you’re sure about all this, right?”</p><p>It’s a vague question but Louis knows what he means. The wedding. Is he sure about the wedding. “Yes,” he says firmly. “I’m happy,” he adds, words tasting bitter on his tongue. “I swear it, Z.” </p><p>Zayn nods, letting it go. “I talked to Harry,” he offers. </p><p>Stiffening, Louis forces a neutral expression. “And?” </p><p>“I can see why you were hung up on him for so long,” Zayn jokes and Louis resists the urge to flinch. “He’s nice, very charming. And he talks very highly of you.”</p><p>“He does?” Louis gulps. </p><p>“Yeah,” he nods. “It was a bit tense there for a mo when Harry said hello to Liam but they started talking like old friends almost immediately after that.”</p><p>Relief fills Louis’ lungs followed quickly by guilt. He’s supposed to be concerned with everyone’s opinion of Dean, not what they think about Harry. “I think I’m ready to go back in now,” he says. Zayn looks unsure but relents when Louis gives him his best pleading face. </p><p>They walk back into the room and Louis immediately makes a beeline for Dean, determination strengthening with every step. </p><p>“I need to talk to you,” he says shortly, purposely not looking at either Liam or Harry. He knows if he did, his resolve would shatter. Dean nods and follows Louis to his desk at the other side of the room. Thankfully, everyone else was chatting and hadn’t noticed anything amiss. </p><p>He steels himself when they stop in the corner. </p><p>“You’re such an asshole,” he blurts, poking him in the chest. “You had no right saying anything like that, borne of petty revenge or not.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Dean says, eyes wide but filled with guilt. “It just came out.”</p><p>“It just came out?” he repeats, letting out a strangled laugh. “What does that say about you, Dean? Truly?”</p><p>He scowls at him. “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have said anything.”</p><p>“No, you shouldn’t have,” Louis continues, shaking his head in disbelief. “How do you think this makes us look? Lovey-dovey fiances? Or the complete opposite!” </p><p>“I’m sorry!” Dean insists, rubbing his temples agitatedly. “You don’t have to keep yelling at me, I get it. Harry already snapped at me, like he has any right.” He scoffs. </p><p>“Wait, what did Harry say?” Louis asks, unable to help himself. </p><p>“That I should apologize,” Dean says annoyedly. “Though it sounded a lot like a <em> fuck you </em>.” </p><p>“You deserve it,” Louis hisses. </p><p>“For fuck’s sake, I’m sorry,” Dean snaps, teeth grit and posture tense. “Now calm down and stop glaring. We have to make up now or there really will be suspicion. I messed up this time, I know I did, but let’s not make it worse. Alright?”  </p><p>Louis sighs, knowing he’s right. “Fine.”</p><p>He does his best to relax as Dean murmurs another apology and pulls him into a hug. Eyes fluttering shut, he leans into it and exhales, listening to the erratic beating of Dean’s heart through his shirt and ignoring the stare burning two holes in his back. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>The Cartiers host the party in their home. </p><p>Louis feels dizzy stepping back into the familiar foyer, gloomy memories of the last time he was here replaying over and over in the forefront of his mind. But he pushes it down, maintaining his smile as his mother, stepdad, and Zayn ooh and ahh at the high ceilings and marble floors. </p><p>None of his sisters were allowed to come despite being invited but even with much less people to worry about fooling, Louis feels anxious as they step into the ballroom (<em> yes, </em>they have a ballroom). </p><p>He nearly flinches when Mrs. Cartier comes over to them, eyes wide and bright. “Louis, darling,” she simpers, pulling him into a quick side-hug. </p><p>Hiding his grimace, he returns it stiffly. “Mrs. C- er, Elizabeth, it’s good to see you.”</p><p>She smiles amusedly at him, teeth blindingly white. Elizabeth Cartier, née Ikeda, is a woman with a beauty so great that it's intimidating. Louis once idolized her, knowing her story and climb to greatness by heart. Daughter of two immigrants, Italian and Japanese, she had grown up sewing her own clothes and working part-time in secondary school to help support her family. She was given a scholarship to a school where she later met James Cartier and they took the world by storm together. She was the pinnacle of everything Louis dreamed about, but standing here before her, he'd rather be anywhere else. “I heard that, dear. You’re going to have to get used to calling me by name. I’m your mother-in-law in just a couple weeks.”</p><p>Louis chuckles awkwardly, relieved when she turns to introduce herself to Louis’ parents. She’s the picture of elegance and warmth in her burgundy dress and pearls, clutching a flute of champagne in one perfectly manicured hand, not a hair out of place. </p><p>Zayn accompanies him to the table where his friends are sitting, all of them complimenting him on his outfit. He’s not wearing anything extravagant, just a simple cream silk top with a black blazer over it and high-waisted trousers. It’s normally a bridal tradition to wear white to an engagement party but Louis adopted it too, complete with a white barrette pinning his fringe to the side.</p><p>They talk for a little bit and Louis slowly relaxes, somewhat due to not having seen Dean yet. He said he was going to be late and that he’d text Louis when he’s going to arrive. </p><p>He listens distantly as Zayn catches up with the girls, talking about his most recent trip to Spain and how things are going with Gigi - everything Louis has already heard. He interjects at some points with a teasing comment just to make sure they know he’s okay but for the most part, his heart isn’t in it. </p><p>It feels like he’s a character in a cartoon and there’s a storm cloud hanging over his room, weighing him down and drowning him in misery. It’s so palpable that he’s honestly shocked no one can tell. </p><p>Or, maybe they can. Going by the worried looks his friends send him and Liam’s murmured, “Everything alright, Lou?” </p><p>Louis just brushes them off, telling them he’ll feel better when Dean arrives. And then they coo at him for being so clingy and he suddenly feels nauseous. </p><p>He ends up excusing himself, saying he needs to do some rounds, and they easily wave him off. For a moment it almost looks like Liam wants to protest, to maybe ask Louis something, but it ends and Liam just smiles at him encouragingly. </p><p>There’s a glass glued to his hand as he wanders around the room, mainly there to keep appearances because he definitely can’t drink the wine inside. His hand feels clammy though and his grip loosens with sweat so he abandons it on a random table. He says hello to Dean’s friends and family and some of their coworkers, keeping the pleasant smile on his face the entire time. Alexa, one of his fellow designer friends who he hasn’t seen in a while, even manages to coax a genuine smile out of him. And of course, he avoids the Cartiers like the plague, resorting to fleeing to the bathroom when he sees Mr. Cartier coming his way. </p><p>After hiding in there and touching up his hair for a bit, he leaves the room and stops in the hallway. The sound of chatter and a low thrum of music can be heard from the ballroom but it’s muted where he stands outside. </p><p>The weight in his chest grows and he decides that he can’t go back in just yet, taking a deep breath and sitting down on the nearest settee. There’s no one else out here with him, all busy eating and talking and enjoying themselves while Louis slowly melts into misery. </p><p>“You look nice,” says a voice. </p><p>He jumps. “Harry?” he blurts, shocked as he sees him at the entrance of the foyer. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>“Mrs. Cartier invited me. I just got here,” he shrugs, smiling uneasily. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” </p><p>“No, it’s, um, fine. Uh, thank you,” he fumbles, a light flush blooming across his cheeks. “You look nice too,” he adds. </p><p>And he does. Harry’s wearing a classic black suit that clings to his shoulders and legs enticingly and he’s got a silk pink button-up underneath that matches his nail polish. Louis isn't sure but he thinks it's a bit shimmery too. And of course, there's a stray curl is hanging over his forehead that Louis has to fight an overwhelming urge to move away. </p><p>“Thanks,” Harry says belatedly, looking at him with a curious expression. He clears his throat, looking around. “What’re you doing out here?” </p><p>Louis swallows, ducking his head. He wonders if Harry thinks he’s strange for hiding from his own engagement party. “Um, just taking a break,” he says weakly. “Dean isn’t here yet so I’m waiting for him,” he adds after a moment, trying to save face. </p><p>Harry just nods, seeming to harden at Dean’s name. “Can I sit?” </p><p>Nodding, he scoots over to make space, suppressing a shiver when Harry’s side brushes his as he sits down, mere inches between them. The brief contact prickles in Louis’ skin, a deep aching settling in his gut. </p><p>“How’s the party?” Harry asks, clasping his ringed fingers in his lap. </p><p>“It’s no Harry Styles party,” Louis jokes, pleased when Harry’s dimple pops out in a grin. “But it’s nice, yeah. Mrs and Mr. Cartier really outdid themselves. I can’t take any credit.” </p><p>“And how are you?” Harry asks then, softer than before </p><p>Louis doesn’t need clarification to know what he’s talking about. “I’m fine,” he says honestly. “Dean’s just stressed. He didn’t mean it like that.” It feels even weaker of an excuse saying it to Harry and Louis swallows, avoiding his gaze. “We talked about it and it’s all good.”</p><p>“Good,” Harry says cautiously, but there’s a layer of something else in his voice. </p><p>Desperate to change the subject, Louis fumbles for a topic. “You and Liam talked today, right? How did that go?”</p><p>Harry exhales. “Better than I expected,” he admits. “I thought he was either going to ignore me or yell at me but to be honest, I’d deserve it. I was the one who fucked up our friendship in the end.” </p><p>“It was a two-way street,” Louis says gently, trying to be fair. </p><p>“Yeah, well,” Harry shrugs, looking uncomfortable. The next thing he says sounds like he’s speaking directly to Louis. “I’m the one who didn’t appreciate what we had.” </p><p>Louis exhales, trying to keep his expression neutral even as his heart pounds. </p><p>Clearing his throat, Harry continues, “We had a nice conversation though and it felt sort of like no time had passed at all, you know?” Louis does know - he feels the exact same thing with Harry. Like no time had passed between them and he’s still an eighteen-year-old who blushed whenever so much as Harry glanced at him. </p><p>The realization makes him feel unsettled and he clears his throat. “I’m glad you guys can get along,” he says genuinely. “You guys were - you were a good pair. Good pairs shouldn’t just end like that.” He winces when he realizes he’s getting a bit distracted. </p><p>“Thanks,” Harry says, eyeing him carefully. “You’re right,” he adds. </p><p>They fall silent. </p><p>“Um, so I saw your mum,” Harry says after a bit. </p><p>“Did you?” Louis says uneasily. Jay didn’t actually know that Harry was his wedding planner and Louis was really hoping to keep it that way, but he supposes it’s too late now to worry about it. </p><p>“How is she?” Harry asks. </p><p>“She’s good,” Louis says. It hits him then that Harry doesn’t know about the two newest additions to the Tomlinson family nor does he know about Dan. “She remarried a year and a half ago actually. And um, had two kids. Another set of twins.”</p><p>Harry blinks, taken aback. “Wow,” he says. “That’s amazing. Did you…” He raises an eyebrow.</p><p>Louis knows immediately what he means. “One girl and one boy,” he murmurs, smiling fondly. “Finally got a brother.”</p><p>“That’s - wow, congrats,” Harry says. He looks shocked… and maybe even a little bit sad? “How old are they?” </p><p>“Two years,” Louis says. “I have pictures,” he blurts. </p><p>Harry nods eagerly so Louis pulls them out, dimly thinking how fucking strange this is. He’s at his engagement party talking to his ex-boyfriend and not his fiancé or any of his friends. “This is Doris and this is Ernest,” he explains, pointing them both out.</p><p>“They’re adorable,” Harry whispers, smiling softly at the photos. “Doris is a redhead, gosh.” </p><p>“Yeah, no idea where that came from,” Louis giggles. </p><p>“How are the other girls?” Harry asks, leaning in closer and looking like he really wants to know.</p><p>“They’re good,” Louis says. </p><p>“Is Lottie still into makeup? What about the twins - er, the older twins? How are they doing?” Harry presses.</p><p>Always happy to talk about his family, he catches Harry up on the most important developments. When he’s finished and sufficiently satisfied Harry’s questions, he asks Harry about his in return. </p><p>It feels weird but nice to hear about the Styles family again. And it feels oddly natural to segue into whether or not Harry ever learned the guitar (“Yes, actually,” he says proudly) and if Louis ever went to Paris Fashion Week which had been his dream since freshman year (“Went the past two years and I’ll be going again this year if all goes well,” he says. It hits him after that he’ll be six to seven months pregnant then so he actually might not be there, stomach twisting in reminder). </p><p>Louis is so caught up in the conversation, he almost misses the pointed cleared throat. </p><p>They both glance over to see Dean standing by the door, a frown on his face. </p><p>“Dean! Darling!” Louis exclaims hurriedly, getting up to hug him and hoping Harry can’t see the way his face pales in panic. He had completely forgotten about Dean. </p><p>“Hey,” Dean says stiffly, looking at Harry over his shoulder. Louis steps back awkwardly, glancing between the two of them. They’re both staring intensely, like some sort of testosterone-filled superiority contest and Louis feels uncomfortable. </p><p>Harry ends it first, standing up and offering a polite smile. “I’m going to go do a few rounds,” he says, voice pleasant. He turns to Louis, softening. “It was nice talking to you.” </p><p>“You too,” Louis echoes, watching as Harry smiles again before turning around and walking away. </p><p>Dean looks miffed when he finally focuses on him. “He’s definitely still caught up in this afternoon, for fuck’s sake,” he complains. </p><p>“Well, whose fault is that?” Louis hisses, flinching when Dean slides a hand around his waist. </p><p>“What are you even doing out here anyway? This is supposed to be our engagement party,” Dean continues, brows furrowing. “We need to go back in.”</p><p>“By all means,” Louis drawls, gesturing for the door. </p><p>They walk in together and Louis winces as the entire room cheers, hoping his smile doesn’t look awkward as they stride to the table where the Cartiers and Louis’ mum are sitting, talking happily. </p><p>“There’s my darling,” Mrs. Cartier coos, getting up to hug Dean and kiss his cheek. She leaves a red imprint on his cheek from her lipstick. Louis doesn’t know why but it feels like a reminder. </p><p>He endures a conversation with them, feeling the beginnings of a headache prickling at his temples before they do yet another round of a room. </p><p>It feels so monotonous is the thing. Talking to everyone and saying the same things and wearing the same smiles. Like their engagement party is really just another business transaction. Louis hates it, his headache growing worse and worse. </p><p>He sees Harry sitting at a table with Liam and Bebe, relieved when Dean pointedly doesn’t stop by them. </p><p>When they finish their walk, Louis’s feet are throbbing in his shoes and he’s cramping in his stomach, exhaustion and weariness settling in his bones. He barely slept the night before and he’s pretty sure tonight isn’t looking much better. </p><p>“Can we go sit?” he asks, hoping Dean will sense the desperation in his voice. </p><p>“You can sit, I need a drink,” Dean mutters, shrugging his arm off and walking away without another word. He seems angry about something but Louis couldn’t be half-arsed to care, not when he’s been so awful all day. </p><p>He wishes he could get a drink too, except he <em> can’t. </em>Nor would he want to considering one too many drinks is how he ended up here. </p><p>Sighing, he sits down at the nearest free seat, grabbing a few macarons from a waiter who walks by (because <em> of course, </em>their engagement party is catered). </p><p>Perrie finds him a bit later and they talk before she goes to call her boyfriend. Most of his interactions pass by like that - short and quick and almost obligatory. Alexa again, followed by Shauna, Min, Raj, and more. Just a sea of drifting faces and excited voices, the corners of his lips growing sore from all his fake smiles. The loneliness clawing up his throat howls like a beast - it hasn’t been quenched since he talked to Harry. </p><p>He eats his dinner in between Liam and Zayn, feeling guilty when he ends up pushing his food around his plate more than actually eating it. </p><p>Zayn notices, taking it upon himself to fill his plate even more, leaning in to remind him he needs to be eating more. He can’t though, too nauseous and uncomfortable. Still, he manages to swallow enough biryani and then cheesecake down to appease his friend, a lump forming in the bottom of his throat. He still feels so queasy. </p><p>It says something when Niall sits down in Liam’s empty seat once Liam goes to talk to one of their coworkers, that Louis doesn’t even flinch. </p><p>He watches as he fills his glass with wine and drinks half of it in one go. “I’ve been too sober to deal with all these folks,” he mutters when Louis raises an eyebrow. </p><p>Well, Louis can relate to that. </p><p>“Harry brought you along?” he checks. </p><p>Niall nods, smiling smugly. “Perks of planning weddings for the one percent is free wine and food and fancy schmancy parties like this.”</p><p>“So you’re enjoying yourself, I take it,” Louis says, amused. </p><p>“Yes, I am,” says Niall happily, taking another swig from his glass. “What about you, Mr. Husband-to-be?” </p><p>“Yeah, just not feeling the best,” he settles on replying, not entirely lying. “I’m just really tired. But I guess that’ll be the case till after the wedding. Dean and I may just spend our entire honeymoon sleeping.” </p><p>Niall seems to still at that, eyes widening. Louis worries that he said something wrong but then he sees as Niall’s face begins to pale when he peers over Louis’ shoulder. “Um?”</p><p>Confused, Louis turns around and immediately sucks in a breath when he sees it. Shit. </p><p>Dean is talking to Carrie at the table behind him, a fellow designer on the team currently working on the summer line. They’ve probably been working closely together for the past month or two.  But he’s not just talking now, he’s leaning in close and whispering in her ear, hand placed dangerously high on her leg. </p><p>Panic igniting in his chest, he turns back to Niall with a strained smile. “That’s Carrie,” he supplies, trying to keep his tone steady. “They’re just talking.” </p><p>Niall narrows his eyes at him, looking suspicious. “Definitely not just talking, but… it’s not my business.”</p><p>“Nope,” Louis agrees, much too brightly. “Um, what were you saying?”</p><p>When Niall continues, albeit suspiciously, Louis discreetly sends a text to Dean: <b> <em>keep it in your pants asshole!! niall noticed!</em> </b></p><p>He’s not necessarily mad Dean is blatantly flirting with someone in the same room as him, but he is seething because now Niall has another reason to doubt the validity of their already flimsy cover. He hadn’t been there for the weight comment earlier today but there’s no guarantee he won’t mention this fiasco to Harry who’ll definitely see a problem with both of them. </p><p>The reason he’s seething because Dean is too fucking careless. Twice in one day he’s almost jeopardized their secret and ruined everything in seconds. He gets even angrier when all Dean sends back is a simple <b>oopss </b>with a period three spaces after it - a telltale sign that he's drunker than Louis thought. Louis is actually going to slap him. </p><p>He scans the room while Niall continues to chatter on, accent growing more pronounced as the alcohol sinks into his system. He freezes when he sees that Harry is talking to his mum and Dan, both of them looking at him with charmed expressions. </p><p>It makes him feel even more sick. Of course, Harry’s gone and taken upon himself to talk to his parents. He’s pretty sure Dean has spoken a total of seven words to both of them the entire night and here Harry is probably congratulating Jay on the twins and getting to know Dan who he’s never met. Louis wants to cry. </p><p>Niall looks surprised when Louis excuses himself, concern on his face when Louis tells him he’s feeling light-headed. It’s not even a lie and he definitely doesn’t have to fake the sickly pallor to his face as he rushes to the bathroom and promptly throws up in the toilet. </p><p>He thanks the universe that he decided to head for a bathroom farther away from the ballroom, closer to the office where he had sat scared and worried out of his mind while Mr. Cartier outlined the conditions of their contract. </p><p>It’s far away enough from everyone else that no one can hear him when he cries. He doesn’t return to the party. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>Louis wakes up on the day of cake testing to extreme cramps. He groans, hand over his stomach as he wills the pain to subside. </p><p><em> Today is not going to be fun, </em> he thinks, and the dread only grows when he grabs his phone and realizes it’s cake testing day. </p><p>Like any rational person, Louis is a big fan of any and all sweet things, maybe <em> especially </em> cakes. He’d actually even been looking forward to this day, sure that even if he didn’t end up with the cake he’s dreamed about, he’d at least enjoy the free dessert. </p><p>But with his stomach turning and panging every few minutes, it looks like his enjoyment level is going to be a lot less than anticipated. </p><p>He gets dressed in more comfortable clothes - a thin and loose white shirt and flared black jeans paired with pale yellow vans and socks covered in mangoes. They’re his ‘good luck’ socks, only worn when he’s sure a day is going to be shitty and wants the extra brightness to cheer him up. </p><p>Dean picks him up and they don’t speak at all during the car ride except for Dean to remind him that he has to leave early again because he has a meeting for the summer launch which is arriving in June. </p><p>Louis just brushes it off. He’s gotten used to the fact that they are no longer a team in this adventure. </p><p>They meet Harry at Larkins Wedding Cakes and he immediately asks Louis if he’s feeling better. The excuse of him not feeling well and leaving the party early seems to have spread to everyone. Louis tells him he is, stomach rolling in contradiction as the words come out. </p><p>He brushes it off. </p><p>Harry introduces them to the owner, Makayla, whose greeting grin feels like a ray of sunshine. Louis likes her immediately and he likes her even more when he tries the first cake. </p><p>It’s rich and chocolatey and melts on Louis’ tongue perfectly. He has to hold back a moan when he swallows, already hooked. </p><p>“I feel like it’s a bit too sweet,” Dean says flatly. </p><p>Louis exhales. For fuck’s sake, honestly. But he brushes it off, sure he and Dean will agree on something eventually.</p><p>As they go through the samples Makayla has for them, she also talks them through her plans for the designs. The Cartiers want a tall cake, with a minimum of four tiers. They also want the metallic finish which Louis isn’t personally a fan of but as long as he gets his flowers, he’ll be okay. </p><p>“I already have plans for the floral embellishments,” Makayla tells them. “I’ve got sprigs of lavender, of course, as well as daffodils and roses which I’ve been told are part of your bouquet. The cake itself will be white or cream and I’ll airbrush the metallic finish. I think it’ll look really lovely.” She shows them the sketch she did. </p><p>Louis stares at the sketch, a peculiar feeling swelling in his heart. “It is lovely,” he says, throat dry. In fact, it looks a lot like the wedding cake of his dreams, save for the height and finish of course. He glances at Harry who’s still not looking at him. </p><p>Did he…?</p><p>This seems to be the dozenth time that Louis has ended up with exactly what he wants in arms’ reach. It’s to the point where it <em> can’t </em> be a coincidence but if it’s not, then what? Why is Harry doing this? How does he even remember? It’s been <em> years.  </em></p><p>“It’s nice,” Dean says belatedly and Louis sort of wants to smack him. He sounds aloof and disinterested and it’s grating on his nerves. Harry too has an annoyed look on his face, like he wants Dean to shut up. </p><p>They try a few more samples and Louis has to mask a groan with a cough when a wave of pain hits him straight on, grabbing one of the glasses of water Makayla provided for them and gulping it down hurriedly. </p><p>When he puts it down again, he realizes Harry is staring at him, a concerned look on his face. </p><p>Louis averts his eyes, making a sound of acknowledgement as Makayla explains the next sample. </p><p>They try close to twenty different flavors and Louis slowly and slowly gets more distressed. They’re all delicious, of course, and he has no clue how they’re going to make a decision, but his hurt is too overwhelming to focus on anything else. </p><p>Dean apologizes and takes his leave a bit later, making the frown on Harry’s lips grow and the tension in Louis’ shoulders tighten. </p><p>“He couldn’t get out of it,” he blurts, feeling the need to defend why his fake-fiance is okay not being present for the remainder of the tasting. </p><p>Harry just nods, an unreadable expression on his face. It’s abundantly clear that he holds a strong dislike to Dean, not that Louis can blame him after what happened at the fitting. </p><p>Makayla continues on, undeterred. They move onto more uncommon flavors of cakes which taste intriguing but aren’t quite what Louis wants for his big day. Not that he can even concentrate on them properly enough to make a final decision. </p><p>The cramps have gotten worse and he feels like he’s going to keel over in pain if he has to stand there any longer. So after tasting another sample, he excuses himself to use the bathroom, walking hurriedly and masking the expression of misery on his face with a strained smile. </p><p>He doesn’t actually need to use the restroom but he heads to the sink to wash his face, averting his eyes from the mirror in an effort to avoid seeing the bags under his eyes and the permanent frown etched across his face. He keeps his eyes closed when he splashes cold water over his sweaty skin, exhaling roughly. </p><p>For a second, he just stands there with water dripping down his face and bottom lip between his teeth. He’s stalling, he knows he is. But he can’t help it. With a sigh, his eyes flutter open and he meets his reflection. The blue of his eyes is sharp and heavy with emotion. He looks away again. </p><p>Reaching for the paper towel dispenser, he takes a deep breath right as a jolt of excruciating pain stabs his stomach. He groans, hands bracing himself on the edge of the sink as the world spins around him. </p><p>Gasping out, he closes his eyes and squeezes. Why is this happening? </p><p>When the wave retreats temporarily, he fumbles for his phone, unlocking it with shaking fingers and typing in 'painful cramps in pregnancy.' Despite his best efforts, a prickle of fear has ignited in his mind. A small itch that perhaps this is more serious than he had initially thought, an inkling that he should be more worried. </p><p>But he’s also widely hormonal and vulnerable to overthinking, so he tries to take deep breaths as the results load in. He clicks on the first one, inhaling deeply. It immediately mentions Braxton-Hicks which Louis scrolls past - it’s too early in his term for those kinds of cramps. However, what he sees next has him freezing in place. </p><p>
  <em> Sometimes, extreme abdominal pain is a sign of miscarriage, especially if paired with back pain, spotting, and vaginal bleeding.  </em>
</p><p>It only takes him eight steps to stumble to the nearest stall, slam the door shut, and shove his pants down. </p><p>Nausea overtakes him as he sees the unmistakable red dots lining his underwear. <em> No, </em>he thinks. He can’t be. He can’t be -</p><p>He lets out a choked sob, hand slapping over his mouth instantly to muffle the sound. </p><p>Maybe it’s not true. Maybe everything’s fine. Maybe he’s overreacting and everything’s fine. Maybe the back pain he’s been experiencing all day is just from exhaustion and normal soreness and not anything else. Maybe the cramps are normal too. If it were something consequential, it'd be more dramatic, right? </p><p>As if mocking him, another wave of pain overtakes him and he bites down on the skin of his hand desperately, other hand pressing into his stomach. There’s still a pudge there but that doesn’t console him much, not when he's beginning to wonder if there's still a baby underneath anymore. </p><p>God, what if there’s no baby underneath anymore? </p><p>Louis yanks his trousers up in a daze, trembling as he stumbles out of the stall. His vision goes blurry with tears, the bright glare of the bathroom lights searing into his eyes as he lurches forward. </p><p>His mind races for another rational explanation, to just <em>slow down </em>and <em>breathe,</em> but it keeps spinning and spinning and suddenly he’s spinning out of control. The walls are closing in on him and his lungs are contracting and now he’s heaving for air, staggering to the door because everything is closing in on him and he’s suffocating and fuck, fuck, fuck, what if he lost the baby -<em> his</em> baby? </p><p>What if he’s not going to be a mother anymore? What if, what if, what if. </p><p>He doesn’t register someone calling his name until two steady hands grip his shoulders, stopping him in his tracks abruptly. </p><p>Everything is hazy and his heart is thundering in his ears, a deafening roar that’s only broken by a loud and worried, “Louis?”</p><p>His mouth falls open and he lets out a strangled sound, shaking and quivering and swaying dangerously. </p><p>Whoever is touching him, tightens their grip. “Lou, look at me,” the voice says, firm and gentle all at once. </p><p>Louis gags, heaving for air as his hands come up and push at the body holding him away. <em> My baby, </em>he wants to scream. His baby has to be okay, they have to be. Or he’s lost it already and has no idea. He needs to get away, away from here, away from anyone and anything. </p><p>“Lou, baby, look at me,” the voice repeats. </p><p>“Baby,” Louis echoes, voice shot through, pushing harder at the figure, trying to break away. His baby, his baby, his baby.“Baby -”</p><p>“You’re right, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” the voice apologizes hastily, but Louis doesn’t catch it, another wave of pain hitting him straight in the gut. </p><p>He whimpers, going slack and almost tipping over if it wasn’t for those steady hands. </p><p>“Jesus,” the voice says. “Louis, you’re worrying me. Open your eyes, okay? Open your eyes for me.”</p><p>Louis shakes his head violently. No, no, no, he can’t - he can’t look, can’t have it all confirmed. His baby is still there. He's jumping to conclusions - he just needs to get to the doctor and confirm that everything is fine. He’s fine, his baby is fine, and they're still there. His baby, his baby, <em> his baby.  </em></p><p>The hands move from his shoulders to his face, big and warm and safe against his skin. Louis’ breathing slows, grounded by the contact. “Take a deep breath for me,” the voice commands. </p><p>Still sniffling and blubbering, Louis obliges. He opens his mouth and inhales shakily before exhaling slowly, lungs contracting and aching but working all the same.  </p><p>“Again,” the voice says - <em> Harry </em>says. Because Louis knows it’s Harry now, recognizes the deep, soothing tenor of his voice and the comforting way he’s thumbing over Louis’ tearstained cheeks, cradling his face oh so carefully. "Just breathe for me. You're okay. I'm right here." </p><p>He takes another deep breath, and then another and another, letting the solid touches and soft words of encouragement soak into him. </p><p>“Open your eyes,” Harry requests gently. </p><p>Louis opens them. He keeps breathing carefully, blinking away the wetness from his eyes as he meets Harry’s gaze, taking in his troubled expression. His eyes are widened in concern and worry, a deep furrow between his brows as he crowds closer, as if trying to shield him away from anyone’s view. </p><p>People. There’s people in this hotel walking around and Louis just had a meltdown in the hallway in front of all of them. He glances around and is surprised to see absolutely no one witnessing his remaining quivers and gasps. </p><p>“I told them to go away,” Harry explains quietly, hands still framing Louis’ face. Louis hopes he doesn't move them, certain that they're the only things keeping him anchored, keeping him from drowning and sinking. “I know this is a dumb question, but are you okay?” Harry asks. </p><p>Is he okay? It all comes back to him in a rush. The cramps, the back pain, the spotting -</p><p>“No,” he gasps. “No, no, no.” He rips himself away from Harry’s hold and stumbles back, his previous horror and panic returning. His hands come down to press over his stomach anxiously. </p><p>“Louis,” Harry says, looking distressed as he comes closer and grabs his arm again. “What happened? What can I do?”</p><p>“Zayn,” Louis blurts, panic clawing up his throat. “Call Zayn,” he chokes out, before sinking to his knees. He needs to go to the clinic, needs to make sure that -</p><p>That -</p><p>Crouching down, Harry runs a hand up his arm soothingly as he fumbles for his phone. “I don’t have Zayn’s number,” he says slowly. “You can give me your phone?”</p><p>Louis is already pulling it out and shoving it into Harry’s hand, blurting out his password and curling into himself as yet another extreme bout of pain hits him. If it weren’t so early, he’d assume he’s going into preterm labor. <em>Stop panicking, </em>he tells himself. <em>Be calm, be calm, be calm. </em></p><p>Harry dials, pressing it to his ear. Louis watches the frown on his face grow as the rings echo and no one picks up. Harry’s eyes flicker to his, worried and apologetic. “Is there anyone else I can call for you?” he asks gently. </p><p>Anyone else? “No,” Louis rasps, trembling harder. Zayn is the only one - the only one who knows other than Dean who’s an hour away by now. “I need to go to the doctor.”</p><p>The concern on Harry’s face doubles as he processes that. “What? Louis, what happened?” He surveys Louis carefully as if scanning for any visible injuries, hands hovering over his shoulders like he wants to touch, to comfort. </p><p>“I need to go to the doctor,” Louis repeats, desperate. He needs to get to the doctor’s and make sure, needs Harry to take him without asking questions, questions he can't answer. “Please.” </p><p>Harry pales, but he nods slowly. “Fuck, okay. My car is in the lot. Do you think you can walk or should I -”</p><p>“I can walk,” Louis interrupts, unsure if he’d be able to endure something ridiculous like Harry offering to carry him. To prove it, he tries to stand up. </p><p>The world tilts and the ground shifts beneath him as he sways on his feet, Harry’s hand springing out immediately to catch him by the arm. He slides his hand to the small of Louis’ back and Louis resists the urge to shiver, studiously ignoring the way every point of contact between them seems to burn, seeping in through layers of fabric and imprinting on his skin. They walk quickly and Louis slowly grows more and more aware - more <em>numb</em>as they exit the building and head to Harry’s Range Rover. </p><p>Harry pulls out his phone and calls someone to let them know he’s going to be home late and Louis’ curiosity is piqued despite himself. </p><p>“You have a roommate?” he asks before he can think better of it. His ears burn red as Harry glances at him, stunned. </p><p>“Uh, yeah,” Harry says, confused. “Niall.”</p><p>“Oh,” Louis breathes, simultaneously surprised and unsurprised that Harry and Niall also live together while working together. He ignores the relief settling into his chest that Harry’s not living with a partner. Guilt bubbles up inside him as he realizes that he’s feeling jealous at the idea of Harry dating someone while he's literally <em>engaged </em>and quite possibly miscarrying. </p><p><em>Fuck,</em> what if he's miscarrying? </p><p>Harry inputs the address Louis rattles off to him and then they’re on their way. He drives efficiently and quickly but it still feels much too slow as Louis bites his lip and watches the red numbers of the digital clock tick up with every passing minute, teeth pressing harder into the flesh as more waves of pain hit him. He sends a quick email to his doctor, letting her know he’s had some complications and he’s concerned about a miscarriage, fingers shaking when he has to type out the actual word. He wants to skip as much unnecessary discussion when he arrives as possible so they can get to answers immediately. </p><p>They don’t speak at all but Louis can feel Harry's gaze rest on him every thirty seconds like he’s afraid Louis’ going to pass out any minute now. Louis can't blame him - he just watched Louis have a panic attack and is now driving him to see the doctor without having any idea what's going on. Louis would be freaked out in his position.</p><p>But Harry is still here. He's <em>here, </em>and he's not questioning or pressing. When the clinic comes into view, he parks as close to the entrance as he can, already rushing around the car and opening Louis’ door before he can even reach out to touch it. </p><p>Louis’ fear and panic seems to grow stronger and stronger with every step until he’s shaking again. He has no idea what to expect and he's terrified. In this moment, he wishes he had his mom beside him, her warm reassurances and experiences in near proximity. He may not have planned for a baby this soon in his life or for it to happen under these circumstances, but never once had he doubted his choice in keeping the baby. They’re already so dear to him, occupying a part of his heart from the moment he found out which only grows bigger with every day. Louis can’t lose his baby - he <em>can’t. </em></p><p>“Are you okay?” Harry asks softly. </p><p>He shakes his head, not even complaining when Harry’s hand returns to his back, flattening against his spine, as they step inside. </p><p>The lady at the desk thankfully doesn’t ask for details about what’s wrong or divulge any exposing details when Louis tells her that he needs to see Dr. Zoyanksy immediately, too busy talking to someone on the phone as she directs him and Harry to the waiting area. </p><p>“You can go,” Louis whispers as they sit down. </p><p>Harry shoots him a disbelieving glance, looking almost as frazzled as Louis feels. “I’m not leaving you like this.” </p><p>“No, seriously,” Louis insists, standing up when Dr. Zoyansky appears, head tilted down as she scribbles on her clipboard. <em>Please, please leave. </em>“I’m sure you’re busy.”</p><p>“Louis,” Harry says flatly, standing up as well.</p><p><em> Go away, </em>Louis thinks panickedly right as Dr. Zoyansky finally looks up and meets his eye. </p><p>“Mr. Tomlinson,” she says, walking over. </p><p>Louis glances at Harry a final time, sighing as he accepts what’s about to happen. </p><p>“I got your email about experiencing some complications,” she says, frowning. “Can you explain them to me?” </p><p>“What complications?” Harry asks, predictably. </p><p>Dr. Zoyansky’s gaze flickers to him, confused. She looks him up and down with a frown on her red lips. “Who are you?”</p><p>“He’s -” </p><p>“A friend,” Harry answers firmly. “A <em> concerned </em> friend,” he adds. </p><p>Louis closes his eyes, preparing himself right as Dr. Zoyansky says, “Don’t worry, we’ll do everything we can to make sure the baby is alright.” </p><p>The words cut through the air, thick and distinct and inescapable. When he gains the courage to look over, he sees shock and confusion plastered over Harry’s face, mouth dropped open and eyes wide. </p><p>“The <em> what</em>,” he blurts. </p><p>Biting his lip so hard that he can taste metallic blood on his tongue, Louis forces himself to turn back to the doctor, just in time to see the realization register on her face. </p><p>“He didn’t know,” she says slowly, grimacing. </p><p>“Don’t worry, this isn’t your fault,” Louis assures her, well aware of the Cartiers and just how afraid they can make someone to break an agreement. He clears his throat, voice wobbling as he asks, “Please, can we do whatever test to find out what's wrong…” He breaks off, unable to finish. </p><p>She’s already nodding, a look of concern back on her face as she gestures him over. </p><p>“You can wait out here,” Louis says gently, peeking back at Harry who’s still standing, rigid. “Or leave if you want. I’ll call Zayn to pick me up.” </p><p>Louis watches as his eyes drop to his stomach, gawking. He shrinks under the appraisal, a million different emotions warring in his mind as he turns away from Harry and follows Dr. Zoyansky away. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>“Good news,” Dr. Zoyansky says, smiling as she returns to the room. </p><p>Louis exhales, relief and disbelief flaring in his mind. His fingers finally unclench from the chair and he slumps. “I didn’t lose them?” he asks, voice scratchy. </p><p>“You didn’t,” she confirms. She takes a seat and frowns. “However, we do have to talk about making some better habits for yourself.” </p><p>He winces. </p><p>“Louis, you haven’t been sleeping nearly enough,” Dr. Zoyansky begins, frowning. “Nor have you been eating enough. Your charts show that you’ve had anemia in the past and though your hemoglobin is currently in a healthy range, if you don't get enough iron during your pregnancy it’ll make things much more difficult for you and your baby. You need more sleep and food - food filled with plenty of nutrients and important vitamins. You’re taking care of two humans right now, remember?”</p><p>Louis nods, chastened. “I can’t sleep,” he admits sadly. Save for that one time a week ago where he happened to sleep well, most of his nights are spent staring blankly at the ceiling and hoping he’ll drift off eventually and whenever he does sleep, it’s restless and unsatisfying at best. “I keep trying, but I just can't fall asleep.”</p><p>Dr. Zoyansky bites her lip thoughtfully. “Is it because of discomfort or are you under extreme stress right now?”</p><p>“Both,” Louis admits, grimacing. “Do you think I should look into some pills?” </p><p>“I’ll write you a prescription if you want me to,” she says carefully, “but really, eating better and solidifying a set routine are two things that have a big positive impact on sleeping habits. Go to bed at the same time every night and wake up at the same time every morning. Stick to natural methods and remedies as much as possible. Prescription sleeping pills may not harm you or the baby this early in the pregnancy, but as time goes on, the risk goes up.” </p><p>Louis nods, exhaling. “I’ll try those things,” he promises, guilt flaring in his stomach. He hesitates. “And the cramps?”</p><p>“Those are just a side effect of your body trying to make room for your baby,” Dr. Zoyansky explains gently. “You rated your pain moderate to severe which is higher than what people at your stage normally tell me, but that’s not necessarily a sign of danger. Due to your lack of sleep and proper nutrients, you and your body are a lot more fragile right now which means you’re also more susceptible to pain. Make sure you're taking vitamin supplements because they'll help a lot.”</p><p>“I see,” Louis says lowly. In other words, he hasn’t been fulfilling his duty to his baby to be healthy and keep them safe. That needs to change and soon, but he's determined to do better, to be what his baby deserves. </p><p>“The spotting is also a side effect of your body making room,” she adds after a beat, "but if it continues and leads to actual heavy discharge, I want you to call me immediately.” </p><p>“I will,” he swears, exhaling. </p><p>They discuss some other things and reminders for a bit and then Louis bids Dr. Zoyansky goodbye, promising that he’ll be there in a week and a half for his actual appointment as scheduled. </p><p>Now that Louis has been reassured that his baby is okay and also been properly chided, his brain is now free to focus on the problem undoubtedly waiting for him outside in the waiting room. </p><p>Harry is leaning up against the wall, face gaunt and grim, when Louis walks out. He doesn’t see him at first, eyes fixed at some unknown point on the floor, curls falling into his eyes like he had been dragging his hands through his hair. </p><p>“You didn’t have to stay,” Louis blurts, ruining any possibility of just sneaking away and never coming back. He’s not even surprised Harry didn’t leave. It’s <em> Harry.  </em></p><p>“Is - are they okay?” Harry asks instead of responding, eyes wide as they drop to his stomach. </p><p>Louis shifts under the attention. “Yeah,” he breathes. “They’re fine.” They’re alive and safe and Louis is finally able to breathe. “I need to eat and sleep more, but they’re fine.” </p><p>“I told you I wasn’t going to leave you like this,” Harry adds, frowning. His eyes flicker back down to Louis’ stomach before snapping back up to his face, lips pursed. “How far along are you?”</p><p>“Around nine weeks,” Louis says, biting his lip. </p><p>Something flashes over Harry’s face as he nods. “Congrats,” he says, clearing his throat. “Um, is Dean on his way?”</p><p>“Oh, no,” Louis says. To be honest, he had completely forgotten about Dean - he needs to brief him on what happened later on. “He’s in a meeting so he hasn’t answered his phone yet… I texted him so hopefully he’ll see it when he gets out.” He glances at Harry shyly. “Um…” </p><p>“Do you need a ride?” Harry asks, voice softening. </p><p>“Yeah, that’d be great,” Louis murmurs, embarrassed. </p><p>Harry nods, an indescribable expression overtaking his face for a moment before smoothing away. “Is there anything else you need to do or…?”</p><p>Louis shakes his head. “No, we can go.” </p><p>They’re both silent as they head for Harry’s car. Louis murmurs a quiet, “Thank you,” when Harry opens the door for him, hunching into himself when he sits down. </p><p>The weight of awkwardness continues as they start driving and the tension grows until Louis is suffocating. Now that he knows his baby is okay, the panic has returned. Harry <em> knows. </em>He knows about the baby and Louis has officially breached his contract twice. </p><p>The idea of anyone finding out he violated the agreement makes him feel queasy and soon he’s breathing harshly. “Harry,” he blurts before he can overthink it. </p><p>Harry glances at him briefly before taking in his blanched expression and frowning worriedly. “Are you hurting again?”</p><p>“Uh, no,” Louis says, honestly relieved that it’s the truth. “I just wanted to make sure… You have to keep this - me being pregnant - a secret.”</p><p>“Of course,” says Harry immediately. He glances at Louis again like he can’t help it. “I’d never tell someone something like that without the person’s consent.” </p><p>“I know that, but,” Louis starts, unable to articulate the true stakes of this secret without being honest. “I mean completely secret. You can’t bring it up to anyone but me and Dean and Zayn. That’s all who knows.”</p><p>“That’s all?” Harry asks, disbelief painting his question. “You haven’t told your parents? Or Liam?”</p><p>Louis flinches even though he should have expected Harry’s incredulity. “Not yet,” he says slowly. “And they’re going to find out from <em> me - </em>and Dean - not anyone else, okay?”</p><p>“Okay,” Harry says quickly. He glances at Louis again and Louis bites back the urge to tell him to quit it because it’s distracting and not to mention <em> unsafe. </em>“I won’t tell anyone, Louis, I promise.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Louis says sincerely. </p><p>“And,” Harry says after a pause. He clears his throat. “If you ever need anything -  <em> anything </em> at all - please let me know.”</p><p>“Harry -”</p><p>“I’m serious,” Harry interrupts firmly. He hesitates slightly before adding, “I’m here if you ever need me.”</p><p>“Okay,” Louis breathes, overwhelmed. “Thank you.”</p><p>Harry just nods. “I know how much you wanted a baby one day,” he whispers, a heaviness to his voice that wasn’t there before. “I’m happy for you.” </p><p><em> How much we both wanted a baby, </em>Louis thinks, before smiling forcedly. “I love them more than anything already,” he admits, being completely honest. </p><p>“I know,” Harry says, something akin to fondness in his tone. </p><p>They don’t speak for the remainder of the car ride except for when Harry asks Louis if he wants to listen to music and Louis says yes. They listen to ABBA all the way back. </p><p>After hushed goodbyes and last thank yous, Louis walks towards the entrance of his building, feeling a weight on his chest. Biting his lip, he turns to look back. </p><p>Harry is already looking, smiling softly at him before he turns to face the front and grip the wheel. </p><p>Louis waits till he’s driven away before going inside, heart heavy. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>The next time Louis sees Harry, it becomes abundantly clear that if Zayn was bad, Harry is ten times worse when it comes to fussing over him and the baby. </p><p>Dean was semi-sympathetic when Louis told him what happened (opting to leave out the bit about Harry knowing now) but then he berated him for not taking care of the baby properly. It left Louis stunned, annoyance licking up his sides when Dean had the nerve to hang up on him right after. He can’t believe he once thought he and Dean were on the same team. Clearly, Dean only seems to care about making it till the end, Louis’ life be damned.</p><p>It’s the 6th now and they met up the day before to finalize honeymoon details with Niall. Harry had been nowhere to be seen and Niall told them it was because he had a prior engagement. </p><p>Louis was relieved about it, not sure he could handle discussing honeymoon options with his fake fiance and ex-boyfriend. They ultimately decided on St. Lucia on the Caribbean Islands  and Louis has been staring at the pictures and brochures every day in awe. Suddenly two weeks of peace and relaxation and utter separation from Dean seemed like a lifeline, something to focus on to get him through the next ten days. </p><p>Because there’s only ten days until the wedding now. Ten days. A little more than a week. They’re meeting at the venue to go over some last minute details with Niall and Harry. </p><p>Harry wants them to go through every step and aspect of the wedding and that’s what they do, walking around and going over details and making sure everything is in place. Well, sort of. </p><p>Because Harry sends Dean with Niall to go over guest accommodations and talk to the hotel representative, saying that he and Louis are going to check the floral arrangements and decor. Louis goes along with it, surprised when Harry instead leads him to the kitchen. </p><p>“Um, is there something we need to check with the food?” he asks slowly, confused. </p><p>Harry glances at him, shaking his head sheepishly. “I, uh, thought you should eat.” He lifts his hand to the back of his neck and smiles awkwardly. “You said you didn’t have breakfast earlier.” </p><p>“Huh?” Louis blurts, confused. </p><p>“I overheard you talking to Zayn on the phone,” he shrugs. </p><p>Taken aback, he nods. “Oh, yeah, I didn’t get breakfast this morning. I actually, um, don’t feel hungry?”</p><p>He gets a frown in response to that. “Louis, you need to eat.”</p><p>Louis huffs. “I’m well aware of that, Harry. I can’t help it though. Just thinking about eating makes me feel nauseous.” </p><p>“You need food,” Harry presses, straightening up. He hesitates before adding, “You and your baby.” </p><p>Grimacing, he realizes Harry’s not one to give in easily, so he does. He doesn’t even nod fully before Harry is exhaling, looking satisfied. </p><p>Harry calls over a cook and Louis realizes he’s being very serious when he starts talking about proper vitamins and protein, telling Louis he needs to eat better because as the baby grows he’ll be eating for two instead of one. </p><p>Had it been anyone else, Louis probably would have brushed them off. But he can’t with Harry. Not when he starts talking about how he’ll make sure Louis won’t have to walk around too much in the coming days and how he wants Louis to be as comfortable as possible. </p><p>It’s so sweet is the thing and it’s even sweeter when Harry admits that he had gone home and researched as much as he could on pregnancies so he could be as helpful as possible. It’s such a Harry thing to do. </p><p>But not just that, it’s such a boyfriend Harry thing to do. This whole thing reeks of boyfriend Harry, protective and attentive and caring. Louis hates how much he likes it. And he hates himself for going along with it, sitting there on a chair in the kitchen while Harry asks him questions about if he slept well last night (“No,” he admits sheepishly) and what he’s been eating at home. </p><p>Sitting there and letting himself pretend that Harry really is still his boyfriend and they’re going through this together. </p><p>His heart aches long after his stomach stops, full from the crepes and pieces of fruit Harry encouraged him to eat. “Thank you,” he says quietly as Harry and him walk back to the hall. They actually have to run through the flower arrangements now. </p><p>“Of course, Lou,” Harry says. <em> Lou - </em>it feels so natural for him to begin calling him that again. “I meant it when I said I want to help. I don’t like the idea of you having to go through this alone.”</p><p>“I have Dean,” he says gently, biting his lip. </p><p>Harry’s voice is thin when he replies with, “Right.” </p><p>“But I appreciate your help, really,” Louis continues, desperate to rid the tension crackling between them. He looks down at his stomach with a frown, disappointment in himself rising. “You’re right, I do have to eat and sleep better. I don’t want to let my baby down.”</p><p>“You could never,” Harry says firmly, brows furrowing. </p><p>“I don’t want to,” Louis murmurs, shaking his head and pursing his lips. “I need to do better though. I’m still early in term but if anything, it means it’s more important that I’m taking care of myself and making good habits. I haven’t been doing that but I need to. I need to be a good mum. I -”</p><p>“You will,” Harry interrupts.  </p><p>Louis blinks, brows furrowing. “What?” </p><p>“You’re going to be a good mum,” Harry murmurs, voice heavy.  </p><p>A warm feeling swells in his heart, filling his lungs. “Oh,” he says softly. Harry is staring at him with a pained expression on his face and it makes Louis feel guilty all of a sudden. “Thank you.” </p><p>Harry just nods. </p><p>By the time they reunite with Niall and Dean, it’s close to lunch. They say their goodbyes and Harry promises to check in by the end of the day with an update of everything that’s finished and everything they still have to do. He directs it to Louis, like he remembers that Louis likes to have it all written out and organized or else he gets overwhelmed. </p><p>At this point, Louis knows. He knows Harry is doing it all on purpose. Because he’s <em> Harry </em>and of course he remembers it all. Three years apart or nothing, he’d still remember. </p><p>He’s remembering things too - remembering how good of a boyfriend Harry was. Remembers how he used to buy Louis flowers when they went on dates. Remembers late night serenades with Harry lazily strumming his guitar and changing the lyrics to Lavender’s Blue to ‘Lavender’s Lou.’ Remembers late nights in Harry’s room at his frat house, making out in the sheets and holding on to each other in the dark. Remembers Harry throwing a shoe at one of his brothers who tried to come into the room one time while Louis was naked. His room’s lock was broken and there was a strict rule that if the sign was on the doorknob, no one was supposed to come in and risk Harry’s wrath. </p><p>The last one was buried deep in his mind but it came back to him now. He exhales at the memory, taken aback with how much he misses that devotion. The way Harry didn’t want anyone to see Louis like that - the way he treated their relationship, intimate and non-intimate, like a sacred link. Louis felt more treasured and loved those three years than he had ever felt before. </p><p>He’s thinking all this as he walks to the car with Dean, missing the stiffness of his posture and the set frown on his face. He doesn’t miss the way Dean slams the door when he gets into the driver’s seat. </p><p>Louis raises an eyebrow, going around to open his own door and thinking bitterly how different he and Harry are. “What’s your problem?” </p><p>Dean is gripping the steering wheel with both hands, fingers pale where they’re curled around the padded material. He turns to Louis and he’s <em> glaring. </em>“Why didn’t you tell me that you and Harry used to date?” </p><p>Well, shit. “It’s not that big of a deal,” Louis tries to placate, face paling. “Harry pretended not to know me first because he wanted to keep things professional and he <em> has.”  </em></p><p>“Oh, has he?” Dean snorts. “He looks at me like he wants me to burn in hell,” he seethes. </p><p>From an outside perspective, anyone would assume that Dean is mad because he’s <em> jealous, </em>but Louis knows it can’t be further from the truth. “He does not,” he argues weakly. He definitely does. </p><p>“And Niall too!” Dean complains. He narrows his eyes at Louis. “Do you realize how embarrassing it is to find out your fiance’s ex-boyfriend is your wedding planner in front of said ex-boyfriend’s best friend? I tried to act like I already knew but I was too shocked to sell it and now Niall is suspicious. And why wouldn’t he be? Normally, your fiance would <em> tell </em>you those things.”</p><p>Louis grimaces. “I’m sorry,” he says, meaning it this time. He should have told Dean sooner, he knows. But he didn’t want to risk him telling the Cartiers and them firing Harry just in case. It’s too late for them to find another wedding planner now, but it hadn’t been then. “It’s seriously not a big deal. We broke up three years ago - it's all history.”</p><p>“I hope so,” Dean grits, turning to face the front again. “I hope you’re well aware of what you’re doing, Louis. I may be able to cut you some slack but the contract won’t.”</p><p>“What are you implying?” Louis asks, brows furrowing as irritation festers inside him. </p><p>“I dunno, Louis. All I know is that he looks at you a certain way sometimes and you look at him the same way,” Dean says shortly. “I can’t blame you for that since you guys used to date but I can remind you of the consequences of acting on it. You will not fuck this up for us, Louis. They’re already suspicious.” </p><p>“I’m not - I’m not going to cheat on you,” Louis exclaims, suddenly livid. He narrows his eyes. “I’m also not the one flirting with random girls at parties or insulting their fiance in front of everyone. That’s <em> you. </em>And if Harry and Niall are suspicious because of it, that’s on you too.” </p><p>“I wasn’t going to do anything with her,” Dean hisses, defensive. “I’m not stupid.”</p><p>“Neither am I!” Louis exclaims, wrapping his arms around himself protectively. Anger and hopelessness swirl through his insides, and he clenches his fists to stop himself from either screaming or bursting into tears. "There's nothing to worry about." </p><p>“Good,” Dean says flatly. </p><p>“Good,” Louis parrots, scoffing. “Now please shut up. I have a headache.” A throbbing pain has begun forming in his temples and he knows it’s only going to get worse. </p><p>
  <em> He looks at you a certain way sometimes.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You look at him the same way.  </em>
</p><p>And the thing is, Dean was <em> right. </em>Louis does look at Harry a certain way. He has certain feelings toward him too, feelings he’s been trying to ignore for the past three years to no avail and it’s only getting harder with every passing day. Suddenly, he feels sick and queasy. He closes his eyes and rests his head on the window, gritting his teeth against the pain. The unhealed wound is pulsing in his chest, bleeding through his skin, tearing him apart, and there’s nothing he can do about it. </p><p>Dean drops him off at his flat and they don’t say goodbye. Louis most definitely does not look back. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. something new</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Once again, there is a small instance of murky consent in this chapter (relating to the fake relationship) and if you'd like to skip it, the first line is <b>With eyes for only one person, it's incredibly evident Harry doesn't mean both of them.</b> and the last is <b> "Good," Dean says. "Let's go."</b></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What do you have for something blue?” Perrie asks him. </p><p>“Blue flowers on the suit,” Louis says, examining the menu and trying to find something that doesn’t make him want to puke. “The something borrowed is a gold anklet from Bebe and the something new is the suit itself.”</p><p>“What about something old?” Leigh-Anne asks. She’s sitting next to him, flipping through her own menu and scrutinizing the options. </p><p>“Haven’t picked it yet,” Louis shrugs. “Mum brought me this broach which she’s wearing in our very first picture together but the colors don’t quite match? It’s still an option though, we’ll see.”</p><p>“Well, we’ll see if we can find anything too,” Jade says sweetly. </p><p>“Thanks, girls,” Louis says, lips curving into a genuine smile. He’s actually got another option for something old, locked away in the box where he keeps all his favorite memories from the happiest years of his life. </p><p>It’s a pin with a lavender design and he’d keep it in his suit pocket so it’d stay out of the sight of the person who gave it to him. </p><p>Picking that feels like a surrender though so Louis still hasn’t quite decided. A broach that doesn’t match isn’t quite a tragedy after all. But still, something inside him is tugging him towards that pin - towards the man who fastened it to his denim jacket four years ago, murmuring that he saw it at a store and just had to get it because it reminded him of Louis.</p><p>Brushing those thoughts away, he turns the conversation to Perrie and her new boyfriend, trying to keep the envy from festering when she starts gushing about how sweet he is and how head over heels she already feels. </p><p>As far as lunches go, this one is pretty nice. They catch up and Louis actually eats plenty, the text message Harry sent him that morning reminding him to eat flashing through his mind and motivating him to fill his plate and then empty it later on. </p><p>The texting is a new development. It started as Harry reaching out to make sure that the suit would be done when they planned it and quickly escalated into Harry sending him good morning texts, asking him if he slept well and how the baby was doing. </p><p>It feels like so much more, is the thing. Seeing how invested and genuinely caring Harry is towards him and his baby. It just makes the yearning in his chest twist even stronger and the butterflies in his stomach flutter with the power of something truly dangerous: hope.  </p><p>There’s nothing to be hopeful about for him here - Louis has feelings for his ex-boyfriend and maybe in another world that would make things simpler but in this one, he’s nothing but stuck. </p><p>He stares at his ring and how the light from the restaurant is making it glint attractively. He doesn’t think he’s felt such a strong resentment to a physical object as he does to this ring.</p><p>Still, he lets the girls fawn over it when they notice that his attention has drifted before subtly changing the conversation to something else. They split the check and walk out to the front together, lingering on the pavement as Jesy continues her story from inside. </p><p>Louis feels a charge of sadness when they finally say goodbye, smile tensed as he returns waves and heads for his car. His mood seems to drop like a weight and he stands there for a bit, leaning up against his car and ignoring the part of him that is uncomfortable with the knowledge that his soft white shirt is potentially getting stained. </p><p>It’s May seventh - he’s getting married in nine days and he feels so fucking lonely. Zayn is with Gigi for the day since she just got back from Rome post-shoot so if he goes back to the flat, he’ll still be alone. Either way, today feels like a ‘stay in bed and watch rom-coms until he starts crying again’ sort of day no matter how pathetic it makes him feel. </p><p>With a sigh, he gets his car keys out and goes to open the door, but does a double take instead. Harry is walking out of a building down the street - a <em> gym </em> down the street, rather. </p><p>Not only that, but he’s coming Louis’ way, fumbling with the tangled cords of his earbuds with a frown on his face. </p><p>Technically he could get in the car and drive away before Harry even sees him, but Louis is rooted to the ground, heart rate picking up as the distance between them grows smaller and smaller. He’s helpless but to stand there and track Harry as he strides confidently on the pavement. </p><p>It’s weird to see him dressed in normal clothes after the past few weeks seeing him in nothing but formal wear. He’s wearing a gray tank top, damp with sweat, and Nike running shorts and Louis has to drag his eyes away from the distinct lines of his exposed biceps. </p><p>He sees the exact moment Harry sees him, head lifting and body freezing when his eyes dart towards him. His steps falter for a moment before he gathers himself, clearly conflicted on whether to come over. He does take a few steps forward though and Louis can see the uncertainty in every one. “Hey, Louis,” he says cautiously. </p><p>Louis decides to take pity on him, smiling softly. It doesn’t have to be weird for them to bump into each other. They’re <em> friends. </em>It’s normal. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself. “Hey, Harry.” </p><p>Harry glances at the restaurant front and then back to Louis. “Lunch?” </p><p>“Yeah, with the girls,” Louis nods. He narrows his eyes when Harry opens his mouth. “And before you ask, I had salmon and it was delightful.”</p><p>The grin on Harry’s face shouldn’t make his heart flutter so much but it does. “I’m glad to hear that,” he says. He clears his throat, gesturing back at the gym. “I was just getting some cardio in. Normally, I go in the evening but I actually have a meeting with the Cartiers then, so.” He trails off awkwardly. </p><p>“I’m going into the studio later too,” Louis offers, reassured due to Harry’s own uncertainty. He remembers when there was never a bit of awkwardness or tension between them, just familiarity and affection. </p><p>“How’s the suit going?” Harry asks, lips pressing together into a line. </p><p>“It’s going,” Louis jokes lightly, shrugging. “I just want it to be perfect, I guess.” </p><p>“It will be,” Harry says confidently. His gaze flickers down to Louis’ stomach. “How’s the baby? Treating their mum well?”</p><p>Louis sighs. “Not really, to be honest. They’re a pain but I suppose all of them are in this stage.” </p><p>“How about the cramps? Not as bad as the other day, right?” Harry checks. </p><p>“Nope,” Louis confirms, shuddering at the memory. He’s not looking forward to Braxton-Hicks if they’re anything like what he experienced four days ago. “Just regular cramps.” </p><p>“Sorry, I don’t mean to be overbearing,” Harry says, sounding embarrassed. “You probably don’t need me fussing over you.” </p><p>“Actually, I don’t mind,” Louis confesses, hoping Harry can’t see the way his cheeks go pink. “I don’t get to talk about my baby much so it’s nice when you bring it up.” </p><p>“That’s a shame,” Harry blurts, before his eyes widen. “I mean, that you don’t get to talk about it as much as you want to, not -”</p><p>“I got it,” Louis smiles. He’s relieved when Harry doesn’t push on the <em> why </em>he isn’t getting to talk about his baby enough especially since he’s supposed to have a fiance that adores him. Though, the thought of Dean doting on him makes him want to recoil. “It’s a bit weird actually - I’ve thought about stuff like gender or names vaguely but it almost in a way doesn’t feel real?” </p><p>“How do you mean?” Harry asks gently. </p><p>“I mean, I feel like I haven’t even gotten the chance to fully process it,” he says slowly. “Like it’s still settling in that I’m going to be a mother. That sounds shitty.”</p><p>“You’ve been pretty busy,” Harry agrees, “but I don’t think you’re doing anything wrong. It’s such a big change in your life so you can’t expect for it to register so quickly. You’ve got plenty of time.” He glances at Louis quickly before looking away. “Even if it wasn’t what you planned for yourself. I mean… I know you’ve always been the type of person who’d want to tell everyone the moment you found out that you’re pregnant because you’d be so excited. You’d have probably planned a party and started taking pictures to track the growth and stuff like that.”</p><p><em> Those are things we talked about together, </em> Louis thinks faintly. It seems that’s a common theme between their conversations about Louis’ life. He clears his throat. “Yeah, uh, I guess things change… I mean - I’d still <em> like </em>to do all those things, but… just maybe a bit later than I always planned, I suppose.” </p><p>“And that’s perfectly fine too,” Harry says gently,<em> worriedly.</em> “I didn’t mean it - I wasn’t criticizing you or anything. I was just surprised.” </p><p>“I know,” Louis reassures. “It’s fine.” Except… Harry’s right. He wants everything he mentioned and he never wanted to do all of them later. He never wanted his first baby to be a secret. He wants that party and weekly pictures and the never ending giddiness and excitement, but it’s something that he’s always dreamt about sharing with someone else. </p><p>Someone who will be there every step of the way, doting on him and spoiling on him and holding his hand in appointment. He glances at Harry. Someone who’d read books on pregnancy so he can make the process as easy for Louis as possible. Someone who’ll check on him and the baby constantly, making sure they’re both healthy and safe. Someone who’d plan the perfect party and take every single progress picture. Someone who he’s staring at right now. </p><p>Louis feels nauseous. </p><p>He really shouldn’t be talking to Harry like this - shouldn’t be getting comfortable with his presence and his smile and the warm feeling that ignites in his chest whenever that smile is directed at him and him only. </p><p>“There’s a really nice pastry shop around the block,” Harry says and Louis bites his lip, knowing what Harry’s about to ask. “The owner always gives me free macarons and I know you love those. Do you want to come along?” </p><p>They shouldn’t be doing this. Louis shouldn’t be getting comfortable - it’s only going to lead to both of them getting hurt. Still, it doesn’t stop him. “Sure,” he says. </p><p>Harry smiles at him, gesturing forward as if to say, “After you.” </p><p>And Louis goes. </p><p>He goes and lets Harry explain how he found the place last year with Niall and was hooked. Lets Harry open the door to the shop for him and pretends the brief second where their arms brushed didn’t send his heart racing and goosebumps tingling down to his fingers. Lets himself be introduced to the bakery owner, Tamira, who coos at him, telling him he’s “just the cutest thing.” He tries every flavor of macaron they offer, praising her baking and protesting when she offers to let him take a bag home for free. </p><p>Harry mentions the impending nuptials and then she insists even more, saying it’s a wedding gift on the house. </p><p>Louis takes them and thanks her weakly. He promises to come back and then he and Harry sit outside at one of the small patisserie tables for an hour just talking, reminders of <em> we’re just friends </em>playing through his head like the worst symphony. </p><p>They say goodbye when Harry has to go and Louis pretends the yearning in his chest and the <em> please, stay, </em>lingering on his lips aren’t there as he watches Harry walk away from him, a different memory of when he walked away searing behind his eyelids. </p><p>Why did Harry break up with him? Why couldn’t it have just been them all along?</p><p>And later that evening, when Harry stops by the studio to talk to Louis and Liam and ends up staying two hours, Louis’ smile never leaves his face. He feels <em> giddy </em> and <em> light.  </em></p><p>It hits him when he finally makes it back to the flat, flopping onto the couch where Zayn is watching Criminal Minds and nudging him in the side until he gets the hint and holds his arm out, letting Louis cuddle up to him and leech comfort. It hits him then that he’s too late. </p><p>He is already too comfortable.</p><p>Of all the things Harry Styles is good at - wedding planning, working out, cooking, singing, Scrabble, being a good boyfriend, and so much more - he’s always been the best at making Louis feel comfortable.</p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>“It’s finished!” Louis yells, a slow grin breaking out on his face as he slumps back in his chair, dropping the thread he had been holding for the past hour at least. He’s been embroidering for what feels like forever, hand cramping and fingers tingling. He’s a designer and though he still does some of his own material work, it’s never been for something as important and monumental like this. </p><p>Except, he’s finally finished and the fruits of his hard work is laid out before him, complete and perfect. </p><p>“Oh my god!” Bebe yells back when she realizes what he means, whooping as she pushes off from her desk and rolls on her chair towards Louis. </p><p>Louis reaches out just in time to help stop her before she crashes into the table, giggling when Bebe gawks at the mannequin. He’s given her and Liam (and Steve who’s been popping his head in every once in a while between phone calls) strict instructions to not look at his corner of the studio until he’s finished and he’s finally made it.</p><p> “It’s stunning! Oh my god!” she exclaims. “Liam! Liam! Get your arse in here!”</p><p>“What’s going - is it finished!?” Liam yells, sticking his head in from the storage closet where he's been on a hunt for the perfect sequins for an upcoming shoot. </p><p>“It’s finished and it’s a masterpiece!” Bebe calls and Louis preens under the praise. </p><p>Liam comes over and immediately gapes. <em> “Lou,” </em>he says, sounding awed. “Holy shit.”</p><p>Louis can’t help but think <em> yeah, </em>it is pretty damn perfect. It’s everything he’s ever wanted. First the shirt jacket: lavender and tapered at the waist to accentuate the curves. Subtle, but beautiful, embroidered vines with blue and white flowers curl up the inner hem and the sleeves are cropped a bit higher than the average suit, exposing some of the skin of his forearm. </p><p>Underneath, the silk white blouse feels soft to Louis’ touch, complete with elegant lace details in the collar and sleeves. It’s loose and airy too - masking the pudge of his stomach easily. </p><p>The trousers are fitted and slim, painstakingly tailored to his precise measurements so that the fabric feels like a second skin while still appearing classic and formal. Not to mention, according to Bebe it’s going to make his arse look amazing. </p><p>His shoes are simple lavender loafers with flower detailing on the toe. They pinch at his feet the slightest bit but Louis doesn’t mind - it all feels a lot like tradition. </p><p>He feels pride blossom inside him, petals unfurling in pure happiness as his friends fawn over the product of his biggest dreams and all his hard work.</p><p>“It’s gorgeous,” Bebe can’t stop saying. She comes over to hug him and then Liam joins too, all three of them grinning and squeezing each other. </p><p>Louis blinks back tears, sniffling as Bebe presses a kiss to his cheek. </p><p>“The most radiant groom,” she says wetly.</p><p>They move the mannequin to the middle of the room (handling it with the utmost of care) and stand around it with matching smiles. </p><p>“Steve! Get in here!” Liam yells when Steve pokes his head in. </p><p>“Is it the suit?” he asks, rushing in. His eyes bulge when he sees it. “Louis, it’s beautiful!”</p><p>He’s definitely teary-eyed now. “Thanks, Steve,” he says, letting the other man squeeze him hard enough his feet leave the ground. His happiness is bursting in his chest, spilling out from his lips in giddy giggles.</p><p>“As much as we should all sit and admire this work of art, I need to talk to Liam about the final assessment I did of current and predicted trends for our shoot proposal next month,” Steve says apologetically. </p><p>“No worries! Go, go!” Louis urges, smiling widely. </p><p>Liam and Steve leave and he and Bebe sit back down in their chairs. Bebe fiddles with an array of papers and Louis, curious, rolls his chair over to her. </p><p>“What’ve you been working on?” he asks, peering over her shoulder to see the sketches laid out on her desk. </p><p>“Just some little doodles of designs that have popped into my head,” Bebe shrugs, picking the book up and flipping through to show him. </p><p>“They’re amazing,” Louis murmurs. “For the fall line?” even though they don’t look quite right. </p><p>She shakes her head, confirming it. “Nope, just for myself. These don’t exactly fit the Cartier image, you know?”</p><p>He nods, thinking of the pages of sketches he has stuffed in a drawer somewhere that he adores but knows would never be approved by the Cartiers nor be accepted in a line proposal. “They’re too incredible to just keep to yourself though,” he says honestly. </p><p>“Maybe you’re right,” Bebe says, examining the sketches with a smile. </p><p>“I’m always right,” he jokes. He thinks of his own abandoned designs. Maybe they deserve to be out in the world too one day. Not as a Cartier design but as a Louis Tomlinson design. </p><p>“Are you going to tell anyone?” Bebe asks, gesturing back to the mannequin and smiling like she still can’t believe how good it looks. </p><p>Louis does the same, warmth blooming in his chest. “I probably should, shouldn’t I?”</p><p>He grabs his phone and then sends a text to Harry first on instinct, a giddy <b> <em>i finished the suit!!! </em> </b> <b>🎉🎉 </b> that he doesn’t even feel embarrassed about because he’s <em> happy.  </em></p><p>Truly and completely happy and he’s bursting at the seams with it - basking in the absence of tension in his limbs as he and Bebe turn on the music and twirl around the room. He isn’t thinking about the wedding or the Cartiers or Dean or even Harry really.</p><p>All that exists in this small studio is him and his friends having a good time. It’s simple and easy, almost too good to be true. </p><p>Someone knocks on the door and Bebe shimmies her way over, wiggling her hips before yanking the door open. </p><p>It’s not Liam or Steve though. Like some cruel cosmic joke, it’s <em> Kelly Tanaka </em>waiting outside, also known as Mr. Cartier’s assistant who is dressed just as impeccably as everyone else in the building, the picture of elegance and poise as she enters the room and flicks a glance down to her clipboard. Louis will admit that he doesn't know her very well but knowing what her presence her means makes her feel ten times more menacing. </p><p>“Louis Tomlinson?” she asks inevitably, eyes falling on him inescapably. </p><p>He nods cautiously, previous happiness fading in seconds, replaced with overwhelming dread. “I’m here.”</p><p>“Mr. Cartier wants to speak with you immediately. Come with me,” she says, tone brisk and businesslike as Louis twitches. </p><p>“You can tell him about the suit!” Bebe exclaims, oblivious to the apprehension on his face. She seems to be hopelessly amused with the fact that Mr. Cartier will soon be Louis’ <em> father-in-law, </em>and that they’ll practically be family in about a week. </p><p>Louis, needless to say, has a differing opinion. Still, he nods and murmurs a goodbye to Bebe, following Kelly out of the room. She walks with long strides, already switching back to typing furiously on her phone. Knowing the patterns of his employers, he’s sure this woman is underpaid and overworked, yet she, like all of them, has been enchanted by the Cartier experience. </p><p>The Carters’ offices reside on the top floor, walls completely made of glass so you can see all of London all around them. Various mannequins adorned in past designs dot the corridor as they head to the foreboding mahogany doors.</p><p>This isn’t the first time he’s been up here but it is the first time that this hallway has felt like a walk to his doom, stomach churning and apprehension tearing through his body until he’s clenching his fists and biting his lip to keep it all from spilling out. </p><p>Kelly opens the door and he takes a deep breath before stepping in, eyes blinking at the sudden light because the office is filled with sunlight, blinding and warm. He hears Kelly shut the door behind him, knowing she’s taken her leave and he’s now alone. He looks towards the front of the room. </p><p>The relief when he realizes it’s only Mr. Cartier sitting behind the desk and not both of them is unfortunately short-lived. </p><p>Mr. Cartier looks stern, lips pulled into a thin line and eyes calculating as they track Louis sitting down and fidgeting. “Louis,” he greets. </p><p>“Hello, Mr. Cartier,” he says carefully, trying to keep his expression neutral. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about, sir? The Autumn line?”</p><p>“No, not the fall line,” he says briskly. What looks to be a strained smile appears on his face and Louis ignores his urge to recoil, heart pounding in his chest. “It’s about the wedding.” </p><p>“Right,” Louis exhales, feeling anxious. “I actually just finished the suit a few minutes ago.”</p><p>“That’s great,” Mr. Cartier says curtly. “With all due respect, Louis, I am a busy man. I’ve got a meeting in five minutes so it would be lovely if you allow me to do most of the talking. I called you in here because I want to make sure you’re doing well with everything going on and that you’re holding up your end of the bargain.” </p><p>Unsettled, Louis swallows. “I am, sir.” </p><p>“I’m sure you are,” he says tonelessly. “But it doesn’t hurt to go over the terms again, no? Especially since the wedding is in a week. I know the planning and the <em> hormones </em>and things are overwhelming, but I want to make sure you’re still familiar with what’s being expected of you.”</p><p>A wave of unease washes over Louis as he realizes what exactly is going on here. Mr. Cartier is already a good five inches taller than him but his chair is taller than Louis’ too, aiding the illusion of looming authority while Louis remains small and alone on the other side of the desk. His hands are folded across the desk, a perfectly blank expression on his face. It’s classic Cartier, grating at Louis’ confidence and making him falter in his response. This is clear cut intimidation. And it’s fucking working. </p><p>He lets Mr. Cartier continue talking, words crisp and almost harsh against his ringing ears. His hands feel clammy where they’re placed on his thighs, listening as Mr. Cartier says words like <em> reputation, duty, </em> and <em> for the good of everyone involved. </em>He listens as Mr. Cartier speaks about him like an object that he has the right to manipulate - like a pawn in a dangerous game of chess where the only thing that matters is what everything appears to be, not what actually is. </p><p>The lump in his stomach grows and grows, festering and twisting and fitting into the gaps of his ribs. Flowing into his veins, poisoning his lungs, squeezing his heart, and clawing up his throat. He listens and bites the inside of his cheek as Mr. Cartier grows less polite and more scolding. </p><p>And at the end of five minutes (that felt like five hours), he stands on wobbly legs and is instantly ushered from the room by Kelly, telling him he needs to get out because Mr. Cartier has so many things to do. </p><p>The elevator ride down to the first floor seems never ending and Louis feels faint at the end of it, vision blurring as he stumbles out of the building and into the open air. </p><p>He drops down onto the nearest bench. </p><p>It’s then when his phone dings with a message. He picks it up with trembling fingers, blanching when he sees it’s Harry. </p><p>
  <b>congrats!! can’t wait to see how it looks! xx</b>
</p><p>His eyes burn as he stands up abruptly, fumbling for his keys as he walks to his car. He opens the door and slides into the driver’s seat just before the first tear falls. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>Liam and Zayn have been meeting up to plan Louis’ bachelor party over the past few days, holing up in the guest room and speaking in hushed murmurs because they both know Louis well enough to anticipate eavesdropping. </p><p>It’s not that Louis doesn’t trust them - he knows that his two best mates know him better than anyone and that they’ll pick something he’ll actually enjoy, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t wildly curious. </p><p>They seem to have finalized everything after today’s meeting though, joining Louis in the living room where he spent all morning sprawled out on the sofa watching Friends and eating cereal with no milk because milk is not cooperating with Baby today. </p><p>He’s also spent quite a ridiculous amount of time grinning at his phone like a fool while texting back and forth with Harry. It’s just so <em> easy.  </em></p><p>So blissfully easy to slip back into the familiar banter and genuine conversations with someone who knows him better - knows him in ways no one else does - than anyone else. The worst part is that it’s only been a few weeks and it’s already so easy. Too easy. </p><p>It’s not that difficult to picture how things could progress either. How Louis could find himself falling head over heels again like he did so easily all those years ago. Harry isn’t someone he can just be friends with and he knew it all along. </p><p>But he still indulged in the yearning that’s digging a hole deep in his chest, growing bigger and bigger until Louis isn’t sure if he’ll ever be able to fill it up again. His old wound is wide open and pulsing but he can’t even feel it, too distracted by the comfort and relief he felt whenever a blue message appeared on his phone screen. </p><p>“Why’re you eating dry cereal?” Liam asks, taking a seat on the armchair. </p><p>Zayn comes over to the couch and nudges Louis’ feet until he lifts them. He sits down and Louis immediately drops them back into his lap, smiling when Zayn doesn’t protest and instead pats his ankle reassuringly. </p><p>“The question is why you <em> aren’t, </em>Li,” he says belatedly, wriggling to a sitting position just so he can rearrange himself so his head is in Zayn’s lap instead, nuzzling his head into Zayn’s hand until he gets the hint and starts petting his hair begrudgingly. </p><p>Liam just grumbles, reaching for the remote and dodging the pieces of cereal Louis throws at him in outrage. “I’m not changing it, just checking the episode, geez!”</p><p>Louis clears his throat. “So you guys have finished planning the party,” he comments nonchalantly. “How confident are you feeling right now?”</p><p>“Very, very confident,” Zayn says. </p><p>“You’re going to love it, Lou, but it’s also going to be a<em> surprise</em> so put a stop to the scheming face,” Liam says, narrowing his eyes. </p><p>“What scheming face?” Louis asks innocently, batting his eyelashes. </p><p>“You’ll find out what it is in four days anyway,” Zayn points out rationally. </p><p>He still groans for the sake of it. “Ninety-six hours,” he sighs dramatically. “Fine, if I must.” </p><p>“Ah, there he is,” Liam says happily. </p><p>Louis shoots him an inquisitive look, craning his head up to do it which he learns is way too much effort he does not want to put in. </p><p>“I just mean that you’ve been really subdued these past few weeks,” Liam elaborates. “Not all the time, of course, and I get that it’s because the wedding is so stressful and you’re doing so much stuff, but it’s really good to see you carefree like this, is all.” </p><p>“Oh,” Louis says quietly, taken aback. His cheeks warm, eyes flickering over to where his phone lays face down on the table to reduce the temptation and the  risk of curiosity from his friends when they see who’s texting him so frequently. The someone that is the source of his sudden carefreeness. “Yeah, just happy today. Excited too.” </p><p>“We’re glad,” Zayn says. “You’re getting <em> married, </em>babe. You should be happy.”</p><p>“I hope you’re getting enough time with Dean too,” Liam adds and Louis winces. “I know you’re both so busy and Dean is still working on the summer shoot but you guys should be taking some time to just celebrate and be excited together. You’ll be remembering these days for the rest of your life.” </p><p><em> I’m sure I will, </em> he thinks bitterly. “We haven’t been spending as much time together as we should,” he admits honestly, slathering some woe in his tone that instantly garners sympathy and acceptance. “We <em> try </em>but then Dean has a last-minute meeting or I’m helping Mum pick out her wedding outfit and we end up not seeing each other unless it’s for a wedding task.”</p><p>“That’s normal, babe,” Liam assures him. “Things will get better after the wedding and honeymoon. God he won’t be able to keep his hands off you after he sees you walk down the aisle.”</p><p>Louis laughs forcefully. He doesn’t want Dean’s hands anywhere near him, thank you very much. </p><p>“It’s going to be a magical moment,” Zayn says. “You trying not to cry or smile too widely as you do your lovely bridal walk to the altar, your eyes on the love of your life the entire time. And he’ll be looking at you with so much love he’ll almost be bursting with it. Just remember that’s what this is all building towards. In the end, the flowers and the cake and even the suit won’t matter.”</p><p>“It’ll be just you two. Hopelessly in love and enamored with each other,” Liam continues softly. “It’s going to be perfect and you’ll remember that moment - and that entire day - for the rest of your life.” </p><p>Throat dry, Louis swallows and blinks back tears. “I’m picturing it,” he whispers.</p><p>“Keep that picture with you over this next week,” Zayn says gently. “You’ll both get through this and then you’ll be together with no obstacles in the way. Until then you guys just have to do your best. I’m sure Dean is missing you just as much as you’re missing him.” </p><p>Louis nods. Swallows. Dips his chin to his neck as his ears burn with shame. </p><p>He hadn’t been picturing Dean. </p><p>“Anyway, enough sappy stuff,” he says hurriedly, and they both chuckle, most likely connecting the waver in his voice to being emotional. “Okay, okay, thank you both, seriously. You’re both right,” he pauses to gather himself, “but let’s talk about something else.”</p><p>“Let’s talk about food,” Zayn says, glancing down at him with raised eyebrows. “As in, have you had lunch yet, Lou, or is cereal the plan?” </p><p>Offended, Louis pouts. “I had lunch already, for your information. I had a wrap and then leftover blackberry tart from last night!” </p><p><em>“Hey,</em> half of that was for me,” Zayn frowns right as Liam says, “Blackberry? Since when do you like blackberries?”</p><p>Louis stills, lips parting. “Um, since always, Liam,” he says offhandedly. In truth, he really doesn't like blackberries, but apparently Baby <em> loves </em>them because he’s found himself craving them strongly over the past couple of days. </p><p>Liam looks confused when he gathers the courage to glance at him, brows furrowed as he stares at Louis. “Is everything alright, Lou?”</p><p>Guilt bubbles up in his stomach as Louis swallows, feeling awful because <em> no, nothing was alright </em>but he couldn’t say that. “Yes,” he breathes. </p><p>Zayn mumbles something under his breath that Louis misses, fingers stilling in his hair. </p><p>“What?” he whispers, peering up at him in confusion. </p><p>“Never mind,” Zayn enunciates, eyes widening in emphasis. </p><p>“I can’t,” Louis hisses back, realization dawning on him. </p><p>“Can’t what?” Liam asks, looking between them curiously. Louis doesn't know if it's him or Zayn that looks guilty but something catches Liam's eye, making him grimace. “Are you guys keeping something from me?” </p><p>He nearly winces, but catches himself in time. The guilt is growing, festering into a toxic mass in his stomach. He <em> is </em>keeping something from Liam - and even more from both of them, but the former is what’s making him feel more horrible. Liam has been his best mate for the longest time, and he’s been there for him through thick and thin. It feels wrong to have Zayn know something that he doesn’t, even if Zayn is equally his best mate. </p><p>“It’s nothing,” Zayn says unconvincingly. </p><p>“What’s going on?” Liam presses, looking between them suspiciously. “Is everything alright?”</p><p>Suddenly restless, Louis sits up and clasps his hands in his lap. He wants to tell Liam <em> so bad. </em>It makes him feel so angry - the fact that the Cartiers have made him afraid to tell his best friend that he’s having a baby, legal consequences or not. </p><p>Defiance creeping in and filling his mouth, Louis blurts, “Li, I need to tell you something.” </p><p>“Lou,” Zayn says, surprised. “Shouldn’t you check with Dean first?”</p><p><em> Fuck Dean, </em>he thinks. Fuck all of them. “I want to tell him.” </p><p>“Tell me what?” Liam asks, sounding desperate. “Say it!” </p><p>He angles his body towards Liam’s on the couch, flattening his palms against his knees as he braces himself. “Liam,” he says, taking a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.” </p><p>Silence follows his declaration as Liam blinks at him, confusion in his eyes. Louis watches as the words process and his eyes bulge. “Pregnant!” he exclaims, mouth dropping open. His eyes dart to Louis’ stomach and he gawks. “But. There’s no -” He breaks off, stunned. </p><p>“Liam, he’s barely showing yet,” Zayn says, amused. “It’s still early days.” </p><p>“You knew!” Liam yells, even more shocked as he whirls to gawk at Zayn. </p><p>Louis winces, the guilt finally making a strong appearance. “Zayn found one of my pregnancy books on accident! I didn’t purposely tell him and not you! I’m technically not supposed to tell anyone…” </p><p>“Why?” Liam asks right as Zayn says, “I still don’t get that, but anyway.” </p><p>“The - <em> Dean’s parents </em> don’t want to reveal anything till we’re married because they’re worried about how it will look,” Louis shrugs, once again playing it off. “We’re both fine with it though. We’ll probably announce the pregnancy a month after.” </p><p>“So the wedding is…” Liam trails off. </p><p>“A shotgun wedding? Sort of,” Louis says, grimacing. “But… it’s for love too of course. We both mutually decided it was the best course of option. I mean… Dean is the one.” </p><p>Liam nods, instantly accepting it. He even looks a bit emotional when he smiles at Louis. “I'm so happy for you.” </p><p>“Thanks, Li,” he says, feeling a little choked up. It feels <em> so good </em>to get it off his chest, a little bit of the weight easing so he can breathe freely again. </p><p>It feels like even more of a relief when Liam gets up and comes over to sit in the free spot beside him, arms open for a hug. Louis leans into it immediately, breathing in the comforting scent of his cologne and trying not to cry. </p><p>“I’m so sorry,” he says again. </p><p>“Shh,” Liam says, patting his head gently. “How far are you?” </p><p>He exhales, swallowing the burn in his throat. “Nearly ten weeks.” </p><p>“Thought about names yet?” </p><p>“No, still early days,” Louis sniffles. It’s a lie and they both know it - he’s had lists of names to choose for his kids since he was a teenager and it’s safely stored on his phone where he can pull it out and browse through whenever he wants to - the middle of the night being the prime time for his past few sessions. In the middle of the night where he can freely acknowledge the baby growing inside him - can freely let himself be excited. </p><p>But now it’s not the <em>only </em>place. He’s sitting between his two best mates, both of them now aware of his baby and happy for him. He feels <em> good.  </em></p><p>“Not to ruin the moment but I <em> haven’t </em>eaten so I’m going to get some crisps,” Zayn says, patting his shoulder before getting up. </p><p>Louis takes the opportunity to lean into Liam’s side, resting his head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” he says roughly. </p><p>Liam slides an arm around his middle and squeezes. “I’m not mad, Lou. I’m always here for you to confide in whenever <em> you </em>want to. Besides, you guys wanted to keep it a surprise and Zayn found out by accident. Not exactly your fault.” </p><p><em> And Harry, </em>he thinks dimly. “Still,” he says. “You’re my best mate, Li. So is Zayn, of course, but I’d never want you to think I didn’t want to tell you as soon as possible.” </p><p>“I know,” Liam says with a smile. “Stop feeling guilty.” </p><p>“I’m so lucky to have you as a friend,” Louis says honestly, sniffling a little bit. </p><p>“You are,” Liam agrees. “And I’m lucky to have you too.” He glances down at Louis’ stomach. “Your baby is too.” </p><p>“Shut up,” Louis huffs, tearing up a little bit. He’d love to blame it on the hormones but he’s always been naturally emotional. He’s a crier - he cries sometimes. </p><p>“Think of all the designer onesies your baby is going to get from her godfather,” Liam says wistfully. </p><p>“Oi! Who says you’re godfather?” Zayn says, returning from the kitchen with a bowl of crisps and narrowing his eyes. </p><p>“You’ll <em> both </em>be godfathers, bastards,” Louis says fondly. He turns to Liam. “Baby will be honored to wear a Liam Payne design.” </p><p>“Baby Tomlinson will only get the best,” Liam promises, before hesitating. “Er, Baby Cartier.” </p><p>Louis’ eye twitches but he doesn’t flinch so he calls it a win. He doesn’t want his baby to have any connection to the Cartiers let alone take their last name but that’s probably what’s going to happen. </p><p>As Zayn and Liam continue chattering on about baby clothes and names, Louis stays achingly silent, any traces of excitement of being able to share his secret with another person drained out of him in seconds. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>It’s May tenth, meaning only six days until the wedding and Louis is trying to ignore it as much as possible. </p><p>They have the official fittings for their suits today with Raj, Louis’ being first at nine in the morning and Dean slated to come in at eleven so they don’t see each other’s outfits. It’s sort of stupid because neither of them care but Mrs. Cartier was the one who scheduled the times so Louis doesn’t argue and instead heads to Raj’s fitting room which is located on a different floor and side of the building. </p><p>He actually doesn’t expect there to be too many adjustments made for his suit since it was so painstakingly measured and crafted, but he’s so unbelievably excited to finally try it on. </p><p>Raj actually gasps when Louis arrives with the suit in tow, helping him take it out of the garment bag and laying it out on the nearest table. He runs his eyes over every inch of it before turning to Louis and saying completely seriously, “Lou, babe, gonna be honest. I’m really hoping I don’t have to tweak anything because the thought of accidentally ruining this masterpiece is making me want to cry.” </p><p>“You won’t ruin it,” Louis giggles, flushing at the praise. “Thank you,” he adds awkwardly, fidgeting with a loose thread. He’s been in the business for a while now and he’s had plenty of his designs in highly acclaimed lines and spreads and his work gushed over by friends and coworkers and complete strangers, yet he’s still not able to take a compliment. </p><p>He lets himself be ushered behind the dressing screen - light green instead of lavender this time - with the suit and then he starts getting dressed. </p><p>Louis won’t lie and say he doesn’t savor it all. He takes his time as he pulls off his own shirt, skin prickling from the cold of the air conditioner. Then he’s running his hands over the soft fabric of his dress shirt before slipping it on, buttoning it up with delicate fingers. </p><p>He almost wishes there was a mirror back here with him so he could watch himself, a small smile unfurling on his lips as he slides his leggings off, wiggling his ankle to see the gold anklet and his something old jingle lightly. He has to wiggle a little to get the trousers over his bum, sticking to him like a second skin. He tucks in the shirt before finally picking up the jacket with reverent hands. </p><p>For this one, he pauses, eyes trailing over the flowers he stitched himself, pricking his fingers more than once because it’s been ages since he’s done so much needlework. The whole process of making this suit was tedious and frustrating and he was majorly regretting his decisions to do the entire thing himself but he’s so glad he did. </p><p>It’s everything he’s ever wanted. And it’s <em> his. </em>In this wedding of illusions and lies and sacrifices and appeasements, this suit is just for him. It is everything he’s wanted and he’s going to walk down the aisle in it with his head held high. </p><p>Letting out a soft exhale, he carefully slides his first arm into the socket and then the other, shrugging it on slowly. Then he takes another deep breath, picking up his abandoned sweatshirt and finds the pin hiding in the pocket. The pin Harry gave him - his something old. </p><p>No matter how much he wants it to be pinned to his lapel, he just slips it into one of the pockets, knowing its presence will provide some much needed comfort. He takes another deep breath, exhaling through his nostrils slowly.</p><p>“Okay, ready!” he calls out to Raj when he’s put on the shoes as well. He tests them out, walking to the edge of the screen and tapping the soles against the floor lightly. </p><p>“Let me see!” Raj yells back right as Louis turns the corner. His mouth drops open, fingers stuck where they’re poised at his magenta glasses. “Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes. </p><p>Louis is grinning, wide and proud. He feels amazing, stunning, <em> radiant. </em></p><p>“How do I look?” he asks anyway, struggling to find a mirror in the unfamiliar setting so he can see if his feeling matches the reality. </p><p>Raj chuckles, gesturing to the full length mirror that's tacked to the wall right by him. </p><p>“Oops,” Louis says, blushing. He moves closer, heart rate picking up as his reflection comes into focus and he sees himself. “Oh,” he breathes out softly. </p><p>“Gorgeous,” Raj agrees. He grabs his tape measure and joins him near the glass. “Does it feel too tight or loose anywhere?”</p><p>Louis doesn’t answer at first, too engrossed as he tilts his head and turns in different directions to see every angle. He lifts his arms and bends his elbows, admiring how the fabric accommodates each movement with ease. </p><p>“It’s perfect,” he says, and he means it. It doesn’t feel uncomfortable anywhere, like the suit is really just a second skin, every garment already following the lines and curves of his body naturally. </p><p>“Well, I guess that means less work for me,” Raj says, grinning. </p><p>Blinking back tears, Louis sniffles. “I don’t really want to take it off,” he confesses, voice wavering. </p><p>Raj nods, getting it. “Take your time, Lou. It’s only 9:21.” </p><p>He nods dazedly, hands going down to his stomach carefully. He doesn’t linger there - not wanting to appear suspicious no matter how unsuspecting Raj may be, but he does revel in it for a second. Thinking <em> your mum looks beautiful, doesn’t he? </em>to the little almost-fetus growing inside. </p><p>A knock sounds at the door and Raj goes to see who it is, leaving Louis to continue grinning stupidly at himself in the mirror. </p><p>It’s a testament to how distracted he is that the voice of the newcomer doesn't register immediately. When it does, he turns around to see who it is and stiffens. </p><p>It’s <em> Harry. </em>Harry who’s standing frozen at the door with a box in his hands, eyes fixed on Louis’ figure. </p><p>“This handsome fella's got something for you, Lou!” Raj says cheerfully, oblivious to the tension in the room. </p><p>Louis is struck silent, cheeks coloring with a rosy flush. He tries not to fidget or turn away from Harry’s intense gaze, nervousness rising inside him as Harry also remains silent. </p><p>“So what do you think of the suit?” Raj asks Harry, before gesturing to Louis much to his horror.</p><p>Harry blinks sluggishly, jaw working as he swallows. Time seems to drag on excruciatingly slow as Harry doesn’t respond, but then: “It’s beautiful,” he rasps, voice heavy with emotion. </p><p>Heart racing, Louis ducks his head shyly. “Thank you.” he stutters, feeling like a flustered teenager. He clears his throat. “Um, what’s in the box?” </p><p>When he doesn’t reply immediately, Louis lifts his head and then feels even more flustered because Harry is still staring at him, eyes trailing over his body deliberately and thoroughly. He feels exposed and vulnerable. </p><p>However, it’s not in a bad way. Because Harry is gazing at him with something akin to awe, making a warm feeling bloom inside Louis’ chest. </p><p>“The box?” Raj prompts, glancing at Harry in confusion. </p><p>Harry finally snaps out of it, blinking rapidly as he fumbles for words. He lifts the box stiffly, grimacing. “Bebe told me to give this to you,” he says awkwardly. </p><p>Surprised and curious, he watches as Harry brings the box over to the table. He moves to follow and settles next to him, ignoring how the limited space between them feels staticky and electric, like any minute it could spark and burn them both.</p><p>“There’s a note too,” Harry murmurs, voice lowering as he hands Louis a folded card. </p><p>Their fingers brush when Louis grabs it and he just barely suppresses a shiver, eyes darting up to see if Harry was affected in any way. </p><p>He’s met by Harry’s eyes, impossibly green and fixed entirely on him. They both look away at the same time. </p><p>Unfolding the card, Louis exhales as he recognizes Liam’s handwriting. </p><p>
  <em> Lou, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> We know you decided against it but Bebe and I still wanted to make one for you just in case. It won’t last till the wedding but we have extra flowers if you change your mind. Neither of us are there with you right now but we both know you look absolutely stunning.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With love,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Liam and Bebe </em>
</p><p>Even more confused, he finally turns to the box. The lid gives away easily when he pulls it off, revealing lavender tissue paper. He feels around for whatever’s inside, stilling when his fingers brush against something soft. </p><p>With utmost care, he tugs it out and then immediately gasps. </p><p>In his hands, is a flower crown. </p><p>His breath catches, lips parting into an ‘o’ as he stares at it. It’s a wreath of daffodils and lavender, garnished with myrtle and leather ferns, and it’s exactly what Louis has dreamed of for years.</p><p>“Oh, a flower crown will really tie in the whole look," Raj says and Louis nearly jumps because he forgot he was there. </p><p>He shakes his head lightly, clearing his throat. “S’not for the wedding, just for me,” he says softly. Then he lifts the crown and puts it in his head with trembling fingers. </p><p>“It’s a little…” Harry trails off, stepping closer and then reaching his hands up to adjust the crown wordlessly. </p><p>Louis stills, eyes wide as Harry positions it just right, hands lingering before he finally retracts them. Their eyes meet and then they both look away again, the tension between them thick and heady and neither of them know how to handle it. </p><p>“It looks - uh, you look… beautiful,” Harry says, voice tentative and unsure. </p><p>“Thank you,” Louis breathes, heart racing under his shirt. He walks back to the mirror, wanting to see how the circlet looks all together. What he sees nearly makes him choke. </p><p>His hair isn’t styled or anything but it looks soft and fluffy beneath the crown. His eyes are bright, eyelashes dark from tears. Remnants of his blush linger on his cheeks in soft pink and his lips are pink from gloss. And with the crown on his head and the suit of dreams, he feels like royalty. </p><p>He almost misses Harry’s murmured goodbye, turning back just in time to see Harry open the door and slip out. Before he shuts it, he looks back at Louis one final time, eyes trailing over his figure so obviously that Louis feels faint. Then the door swings closed and he’s gone. </p><p>"I don't usually go for white guys, but <em>man, </em>he's fine,” Raj says, fanning his face with a smirk. “Do you think he’s single?”</p><p>Louis bites his lip, ignoring the urge to glare as he turns back to Raj - his lovely and nice friend, Raj. “I guess that’s a question for him,” he replies smoothly, ignoring the way the thought of them together feels sharp against his raw heart. </p><p>Raj excuses himself to use the bathroom and Louis finally wanders back behind the dressing screen, painstakingly careful as he begins the process of taking his suit off. He waits as long as possible to take off the flower crown which means he’s standing bare-legged in nothing but the white collared shirt and the wreath on his head, jacket and trousers removed. </p><p>His fingers quiver when he finally lifts it up, letting it rest on the stool as he unbuttons the shirt and slips it off, leaving him near naked save for the lavender cotton panties that he wore because everyone says to wear exactly what you’ll be wearing at the reception for your fitting. </p><p>It’s not that Louis has big plans for his and Dean’s wedding night but it makes him feel pretty and delicate and that’s something he can’t deny himself even during this whole mess, maybe <em> especially </em>because of it. </p><p>Taking joy in the little things is all he really can do, anyway, especially as time is quickly running out and soon any chances of happiness will be tainted by his new roles as a husband and eventually, parent. </p><p>He’s getting married in six days. He’s going to walk down the aisle in his suit carrying a bouquet while his friends and family and coworkers watch him admiringly. He will say his vows and those sacred two words that he’s dreamt about saying to the love of his life since he was young. </p><p>And then he’ll be married. </p><p>It’s all so easy to imagine yet there’s always something off about the pictures in his mind. There’s always something - some<em> one - </em> wrong. Because no matter how many times he tries, he can’t picture Dean on the other end. No matter how many times he tries, he can only picture one person. </p><p>It’s always Harry waiting for him at the altar. No matter how many times he tries to imagine, sitting between Liam and Zayn on the sofa while Liam flicks through the DVR. It’s always Harry. Standing in a suit with a wide smile and wet eyes, glued to Louis’ own as the distance between them shrinks until they’re standing face to face. Reading his completely self-written vows, voice wavering and choked up but still firm and full with love. Saying “I do,” and then kissing him in front of all their friends and families. </p><p>Harry kissing his belly-button and talking to their kid. Harry holding his hand at doctor’s appointments and choosing colors for the nursery and reading through Louis’ name list with him until they find one that fits just right. </p><p>It’s always Harry. And that’s utterly terrifying. </p><p>-</p><p>The next day he wakes up to another bout of morning sickness, eyes heavy from the lack of sleep he had gotten, plagued by memories and nightmares and poignant dread. It’s May eleventh - five days till the wedding.</p><p>It’s also photoshoot day. </p><p>Louis reluctantly drags himself out of bed and gets ready, ignoring the way his dread grows stronger. Zayn woke up early too, bustling about in the kitchen and making crepes for breakfast which he forces Louis to pause and eat before he rushes out the door. </p><p>On the drive, he turns on his loudest playlist and rolls the windows down, breathing harshly through his nose as Fall Out Boy starts playing. </p><p>He jerks when the song reaches the bridge and the familiar lyrics ring through the air. </p><p>
  <em> Feeling borrowed, always blue.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Someone old, no one new.  </em>
</p><p>It makes him want to weep, those specific words resonating so much with his current situation. The only difference is that there <em> is </em>someone new. Dean. </p><p>He slept with someone from his work, and now he’s getting married in five days, with a baby growing in his stomach and his ex-boyfriend and the only one he ever saw himself getting married to in the first place so close yet so far away.</p><p>His grip tightens on the steering wheel, eyes burning but thankfully not to the point that tears are falling. He’s cried too much in the past month and he’s getting tired of it. He’s tired of all of it - feeling trapped and hesitant, tolerating Dean’s flaky behavior and rude comments, the fluttering feeling he felt when his phone dinged with a <b>Good morning! :) </b>from Harry. </p><p>He feels <em> angry. </em>And he’s tired of that too. </p><p>The urge to drop everything and run is monumental but he <em> can’t. </em>He can’t abandon his responsibility or his friends and family - he can’t risk the ruin of his career that he worked so hard to build up, can’t risk anything. All the cards are on the table he’s folding. That’s what he decided already - it’s what he has to do. </p><p>So he arrives at the photoshoot scene where the Cartiers are waiting, Dean nowhere to be seen because they’re doing separate shoots to maintain the surprise. He introduces himself to the photographer and then greets Niall who informs him that Harry won’t be here today. </p><p>It has his heart sinking, disappointment and confusion blooming in his stomach. Harry hadn’t mentioned his absence and Louis feels lost without his steady presence there. He gets dressed quickly, not bothering to savor it this time. </p><p>His head looks heartbreakingly bare without his crown but he brushes it off. He brushes it all off - the critical look Mrs. Cartier gives him as she surveys his suit and whispers to Mr. Cartier, the bluntness of the stylist who fusses over his hair and applies some makeup to enhance his features for the magazine spread. He’s nothing but a doll, prepped and tweaked to perfection for the eyes of the public. </p><p>When he’s finally ready, he’s directed to pose in various spots, the extra bouquet commissioned from Vanessa shoved into his hands. They’re at an empty amphitheater with marble arches and a church-esque feel to it, the best spot for a Cartier-worthy photoshoot. There’s also a field nearby where he’s forced to pose next, limbs growing stiff and sore from the amount of waiting and walking. It’s no different from the type of shoot that the models showing off the pieces for the Fall shoot will be enduring. He’s just a faceless stranger helping the Cartiers tell the story they want to tell and not the story of what <em> is </em>. </p><p>He looks flawless, every hair styled to perfection and every thread in position. Dressed in Cartier finery with that elusive, almost <em> enchanting </em>look of nonchalance on his face that’s common with so many of their models. Like he’s a mystery waiting to be unpacked, discovered, explored. But it’s all a mask. </p><p>A flimsy curtain to hide the slowly cracking glass of his insides, because everything is falling apart. The statement piece of a collection where the threads are slowly unraveling until soon there’ll be nothing left. A frail statue crumbling in its foundations. He is cracking, breaking, falling apart. </p><p>When he’s finished, Mr. Cartier pats him on the shoulder. “Well done,” he says, voice sickeningly condescending. Like Louis' a dog that performed his tricks well and is allowed to be praised. </p><p>He thanks the photographer and the brisk stylist, feeling guilty for judging her. Who is he to expect anything of her, anyway? Not when he has no clue what she may be hiding under her own mask. </p><p>Then he gets out of there as fast as he can, slumping into his car seat and staring aimlessly into the distance where the sun is shining. The weather is impossibly nice today - blue, blue, blue sky with no cloud in sight and a warm breeze rustling through the trees. It’s just a reminder that everything is not what it seems. </p><p>He puts his key into the ignition and then drives. </p><p>Twenty minutes later he’s at the Dorchester, but he’s not heading for the hall where the ceremony will take place or the ballroom where the reception will take place. No, he’s heading for the elevator and then up to the sixth floor, striding down the hallway and trying not to imagine which room Harry is staying in because he just remembered that he’ll be staying here until the wedding. </p><p>It’s not Harry that he came here for though. </p><p>When he knocks on the door, it only takes a minute (in which he hears a slightly alarming crash behind said door) before it’s swinging open and his mum is staring at him in surprise. “Lou! Baby, what’re you doing here?”</p><p>He exhales, already feeling some of the tension in his bones seeping out at the sight of his lovely mother. “Feeling homesick,” he croaks. </p><p>She softens immediately, opening her arms for a hug. He falls into it with a sigh, burying his face in her neck and inhaling her flowery perfume. “My darling boy,” she coos, rubbing soothing circles into his back as he struggles to control his breathing. “Come sit with me and your sisters for a bit. We’re watching The Princess Diaries. This place has so many films, baby, it’s crazy!”</p><p>His laugh is choked but genuine, lips twitching as she pulls him inside and closes the door behind them. </p><p>“Lou! You’re just in time for Chris Pine!” Lottie hollers, laying on her stomach on one of the beds with Fizzy while the twins are sprawled on the other. He knows there’s a queen bed in the other room for his mum and Dan and the younger twins are with his grandparents until the day before the wedding. </p><p>“Thanks for the warning,” he jokes, slipping his shoes off and flopping onto the empty space between Daisy and Phoebe who immediately cuddle up into his sides, mumbling, “Missed you, Lou,” and, “Oi! I’ve got popcorn here!” respectively. </p><p>Jay takes a seat in the armchair less than ten feet away and Louis feels content with her proximity. His sisters giggle as something funny gets said in the movie and he realizes he just spent the past minute distracted by how relieved he is to be here, surrounded by his family. </p><p>He revels in the safe, warm feeling before grabbing a handful of popcorn and ruffling Phoebe’s hair when she huffs. </p><p>The little things, he reminds himself. He can take joy in the little things. It’s enough for him. </p><p>It has to be. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>The universe really seems to be taking enjoyment out of Louis’ misery because Dean calls him the next day (the twelfth; four days till the wedding) to tell him that their application for the marriage license has been accepted and they have to go fill it out. Apparently, they’re also handling the prenup agreement as well. </p><p>He’s already seen the copies Dean emailed him, making sure it was abundantly clear that in the case of a divorce, he would have custody of any children from both of them and that he wouldn’t lose anything else he already owned nor his job. </p><p>Thankfully, there hadn’t been too much conflict in terms of reaching the same page but that doesn’t mean Louis wants to endure what will most likely be a multiple hour long meeting as Dean’s lawyer outlines every point of the agreement. The one and only saving grace is that it’ll just be them three in the room, no meddling parents in sight. </p><p>As much as Dean is infuriating and an asshole, he’s the closest to Louis’ equal out of his family which means Louis is going to stand his ground as much as he has to. </p><p>Dean picks him up outside of his building at around eight. Louis had been surprised when he offered to drive him but considering his tolerance for driving has dwindled to almost nothing thanks to headaches and constant nausea, he easily said yes. </p><p>It doesn’t hit him until the car door closes and they’re alone that he should have been more suspicious of Dean’s motives. </p><p>“We need to talk about something,” he says, hands pale against the steering wheel. His voice is firm, full of authority and confidence that only a Cartier businessman can attain. </p><p>Louis sighs. “God, what now?” He glances at Dean, straightening up. “Did you sleep with someone?” he asks, unable to keep some of the eagerness out of it. </p><p>Dean scoffs. <em> “No,” </em>he says, scowling. “God, I wish. It’s been weeks since I’ve been laid. Fucking outrageous.” </p><p>“Don’t forget we’re in the same boat,” Louis snaps, annoyed. Thanks to his heightened hormones, he’s been feeling a lot more… desperate lately, and it’s driving him insane. Sex is the last thing he should be thinking about and yet he’s been waking up flustered with lingering flashes of skin on skin dancing behind his eyelids. </p><p>He shoots Louis a smug look and the realization settles before he even opens his mouth to say it out loud. “We could always -”</p><p>“No way in hell,” Louis interrupts, ears hot. “Never again, Dean Cartier. Sleeping with you has literally upended my entire life. Believe me, I’m never going down that road again.” Nor does he want to, the mere thought of it making him want to throw up. “Especially since you didn’t wear a fucking condom,” he adds, anger licking up his sides. </p><p>“Geez, alright,” Dean says, tone clipped. “That’s not even what I wanted to talk about.”</p><p>“Then get to it,” Louis grumbles, crossing his arms protectively over his stomach. </p><p>“Mum reminded me that since we’re getting our marriage license filled out today, it’s also the perfect opportunity to finalize the paperwork for changing your name,” Dean says. </p><p>Louis blinks. Wait, what? “I’m not changing my name,” he blurts, recoiling. “That was never a part of the agreement!”</p><p>Dean frowns, glancing at him. “Yeah, well, it sort of went without saying, didn’t it?”</p><p>“Uh, <em> no?” </em> Louis says slowly. He’s still reeling from the fact that Dean just tried to fucking <em> proposition </em> him again and now Dean is trying to act like him changing his last name went without saying? He doesn’t even know why he’s surprised at this point. It’s typical Dean - typical arrogant and entitled Dean Cartier. To think he once found his confidence <em> charming.  </em></p><p>“C’mon,” Dean says after he realizes Louis isn’t joking. He looks amused even - like this is all very funny to him. “You can’t tell me you didn’t think that was going to happen!”</p><p>“I’m telling you right now that I didn’t think, nor will I ever do that,” Louis says, irritation flaring inside him. There’s no way on Earth he’d ever take Dean’s last name. He is <em> not </em>a Cartier and he doesn’t want any symbol of belonging to that family or with Dean for him at all. </p><p>“It’s only for two years. You can change it back when we get divorced,” Dean says, looking confused as if Louis being pissed off was unexpected or worse, unreasonable. </p><p>“I don’t want to,” Louis grits, trying to tamp down the anger burning in his insides. </p><p>“Louis,” Dean says reproachfully. “Don’t be difficult.” </p><p>Difficult? He glares, even more pissed off. “I’m not being difficult. Do you know how much paperwork that is? And then to change it back? Why do I even have to change my name anyway?”</p><p>“Because everyone who marries into the Cartier family changes their name?” Dean says slowly, as if it’s an extremely simple concept to grasp and <em> Louis </em>is the crazy one. “Including you.”</p><p>“What’s the fucking point?” Louis asks, blown away that Dean is actually being completely serious right now. </p><p>“The <em> point </em>is that people will expect you to change your name,” Dean snaps, brows dipping in the middle as he also gets angry. “It’s an honor to join the Cartier family so -”</p><p>Louis snorts, unable to suppress it. </p><p>“What’s your problem?” Dean says, glaring ahead at the road as his hands tighten around the wheel. “People are going to be suspicious if you don’t do it. The whole goal here is to sell our relationship! This has to be legit!”</p><p>“But I don’t want to change my name,” Louis says firmly. It’s not even the concept of changing his name that he’s against - if he was marrying someone special and he wanted to take their name, he would. But not Dean - not <em> Louis Cartier.  </em></p><p>“It’s only temporary,” Dean repeats, sounding exasperated. He’s still driving, somehow driving smoothly despite their bickering. “If paperwork is all you’re worried about, we can help you handle that. I’m on your side here - I don’t particularly care what your last name is but the public will. We’re going to be under a lot of scrutiny, remember? And God, we’re literally driving to get our fucking marriage license - we have to be calm about this.” </p><p>Taking a deep breath, Louis considers the consequences if he doesn’t surrender. “Are your parents being insistent on this?” he asks, biting his lip. <em> So much for standing his ground, </em>he thinks. </p><p>“They’re under the impression it’s the obvious course of action so I’d say so, yes,” Dean says flatly. “Again, I don’t really care either way, but it’ll look <em> off </em>if you don’t do it.”</p><p>Louis sighs. “It only becomes final when we’re married, right?” he asks. He can’t believe he’s even thinking about this. Four days left as Louis Tomlinson - it’s almost fitting. He’s getting married and losing his freedom already, might as well throw his name out with it. </p><p>“Yes,” Dean confirms. “So… we’re good?” </p><p>“I suppose so,” Louis says, swallowing. He tries to think of a good reason to protest - tries to think of a good excuse or a way out of this. As always, he comes up short. </p><p>“Great.” </p><p>They fall silent and Louis rests his head against the window, closing his eyes. He figured their conversation was over which is why he jumps when Dean speaks again. </p><p>“I mean let’s be real, Louis. This is actually an advantage,” he says offhandedly. </p><p>Eyes fluttering open, Louis purses his lips. There’s a number of ways he sees Dean’s words continuing and he doesn’t like any of them. “And why might that be?” he asks, voice scarily steady. </p><p>“Well, the benefits, of course. I mean, I think it goes without saying that <em> Cartier </em> has more weight to it than <em> Tomlinson,” </em>Dean says, oblivious to the thin ice he’s found himself in. </p><p>Louis sits up straight, seeing red. “That is complete and utter bullshit, Dean Cartier,” he hisses, heart pounding. </p><p>Dean spares him a brief glance, looking confused. “What do you mean? It’s the truth, Louis.”</p><p>“Why? Because of wealth? Fame?” Louis asks, feeling so out of place in this car - in this role he’s been forced to play. He lets out a bitter laugh, startling even himself. “You know, when I first found out I got an internship at James Cartier, I was shocked. Why would such a big company want this straight-out-of-uni designer who barely knew what he was doing? Then I was hired and then transferred to the London branch where I met <em> you. </em> You and your parents - the esteemed <em> Cartiers </em>I had built up so much in my head.” He scoffs, shaking his head. “If there’s one thing that all of this mess has taught me is that Cartier stands for nothing but <em>lies.”</em></p><p>“Watch your tone,” Dean warns, sending him another heated glance. </p><p>“I don’t give a shit if you guys are rich and successful or that your name could give me more respect and privileges,” Louis says slowly. “I’d pick being a Tomlinson - being hard-working, loyal, kind, and humble, because<em> that’s </em> what Tomlinson means - over being a Cartier any day.” </p><p>Dean is quiet for a second, before clearing his throat. “And yet you’re still going to go inside and change your last name, right? Because even if you think we’re liars, you’re still scared of us.” His voice is steady and dismissive. “And soon you’ll become one of us.” </p><p>He parks the car as Louis gapes. </p><p>They have arrived.</p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>Louis feels numb by the time Dean drops him back off at the flat. The marriage license has been filled out and his new name signed away on. It’ll be official when they get married. </p><p>He will be Louis Cartier, and there’s nothing he can do about it. </p><p>It takes him about five minutes of standing outside his building to realize he needs to distract himself. </p><p>Zayn’s at a meeting so he’ll be alone if he goes up and he’s pretty sure his mum would be suspicious if he showed up again after spending six hours straight with her and the girls yesterday watching movies, painting nails, and ordering an outrageous amount of room service. </p><p>Bothering Liam or Bebe isn’t something he wants to do either. </p><p>In reality, he already has a person in mind - someone whose voice and smile and <em> comfort </em>he’s always craving. But it’s hardly an option so he tries to push it out of mind. </p><p>His stomach growls a moment later, reminding him that he should be getting some lunch. With a sigh, he decides that he’ll go somewhere for food. His dwindling tolerance for driving will just have to deal with it. </p><p>He decides to steer well away from any Fall Out Boy this time, sticking with Avril Lavigne to let out the tension going brittle in his limbs. </p><p>Twenty minutes later he’s parked outside the same bakery Harry took him to a few days ago, having no recollection of picking here in particular to go. Still, he remembers how delicious those macarons were and wonders if Tamira has anything blackberry flavored, making up his mind easily. </p><p>The door opens with a little chime and he heads to the counter, head craning up to read the chalkboard menu where the pastry of the day is written. He scans the menu for something blackberry flavored too, nearly missing the surprised, “Lou?”</p><p>
  <em> Harry.  </em>
</p><p>Blushing, Louis turns to see Harry sitting at the counter on a stool, once again dressed in casual clothes - gray shirt under a brown cotton jacket and ripped black jeans. There’s some sunglasses precariously perched on his head too, in danger of falling off. </p><p>“Hi,” Louis says belatedly, exhaling. He can’t believe this - the one time he isn’t supposed to see who he wants to see, the universe goes and drops him right there. </p><p>His next thought is what he’s wearing - leggings which he changed into in the car because the jeans he was wearing earlier felt too tight around his tummy especially since he’d be eating and on top, a lavender sweatshirt that’s seen better days. His hair is also mostly likely still tousled from all the mussing and fidgeting he did when going over the paperwork with Dean too.  </p><p>Then guilt because the last thing he should be doing is worrying about what he’s wearing when it comes to Harry, especially when the man gestures to the free stool next to him, smiling softly. </p><p>Unable to resist, Louis sits down carefully, clasping his hands on the countertop. He ignores the part of his mind saying he’s only making things more difficult for himself. </p><p>“Are you having lunch?” Harry asks, as sweet and concerned as ever. </p><p>“Yeah, ‘m probably getting a sandwich then something sweet,” Louis says reassuringly. He clears his throat, hating himself for what he’s about to ask. “You weren’t at the photoshoot yesterday.” </p><p>Harry exhales next to him, shifting awkwardly. “I was at a meeting with another client,” he admits. </p><p>Louis blinks, not expecting that answer. “I thought you weren’t working on any other weddings at the same time as ours - er, mine and Dean’s.”</p><p>“Yeah, well… the planning for your guys’ wedding is pretty much over,” Harry shrugs. “I was actually way more involved in the process for you guys than I typically am for weddings but that’s because the Cartiers requested it specifically. But everything is booked and ready now. I’ll still be here for the wedding itself to make sure it all goes as planned but my job is pretty much done. Niall’s the event coordinator so he’ll be working more closely with you guys until the big day to make sure it runs smoothly but I now have time to return to my normal schedule. </p><p>“Oh,” Louis says. “That’s… good.” His insides contract, heart rattling in his chest. It’s not like he didn’t know everything was coming together and Harry wouldn’t have anything left to plan eventually, but he didn’t expect it to feel so abrupt. The realization processes slowly. </p><p>His time with Harry back in his life is running out. </p><p>“How did it go anyway?” Harry asks after a beat, voice softening.  </p><p>Louis shrugs, throat dry as he swallows. “I think it went well,” he says unsurely. “I dunno. I’m no model.” </p><p>Harry scoffs. “I bet you were perfect.” </p><p>Fighting another blush, he straightens up as Tamira comes by, a wide smile on her face. “Louis! Back again so soon?”</p><p>“Couldn’t stay away,” he smiles. He does end up getting his sandwich along with blackberry turnovers and another free box of macarons on the house. </p><p>Harry gets a half sandwich and a bowl of soup, adding on a cinnamon roll that Louis had missed on the menu.</p><p>“So what did you do today?” Louis asks, because he can’t not talk to Harry when he’s sitting so close - can’t not hear his voice or memorize the furrow between his brows when he thinks of his response. Can’t not soak up every little bit of attention he offers because he knows it’s going to be taken away from him in four days. </p><p>“Not much,” Harry says, angling his body towards Louis who does the same. “I had a few calls to make this morning and went on a run too but mostly I’ve just been lazing around.”</p><p>“That’s good. You need rest,” Louis says, then regrets it. He’s not Harry’s sweet and caring boyfriend - he hasn’t been for a long time. </p><p>“So do you,” Harry says, shooting him a pointed look before his eyes drop to his covered stomach. </p><p>“I am resting plenty,” Louis insists. He’s smiling though, wide enough that he can feel his eyes crinkle. </p><p>Harry doesn’t reply for a moment, blinking slowly as he stares at Louis wondrously. </p><p>“Uh, Harry?” Louis prompts, flustered under the appraisal. </p><p>He snaps out of it with a mumbled apology and then ducks his head. The movement is enough to jostle the sunglasses and send them clattering onto the counter. The expression on his face is almost comical, eyes wide and lips parted.</p><p>Louis giggles, slapping a hand over his mouth right after in embarrassment. </p><p>Harry’s head snaps towards his, dimple peeking out as he grins. “Whoops.” He looks so endeared and happy and Louis feels a sudden rush of longing overtake his entire body. </p><p>Tamira brings out their food right then and Harry looks away, letting Louis gather himself. </p><p>They eat and talk some more, but mostly they just sit in comfortable silence. Comfortable. Because once again, Louis is too comfortable. It’s so unfair - so unfair for things to feel so easy and natural between them. So unfair for all the feelings and yearning he had buried for years to come pouring back, strong enough to drown him in its flood. </p><p>He finds himself looking longingly at Harry’s cinnamon roll too, an intense craving for the treat building up inside him and replacing his previous craving for blackberries in a blink of an eye. His baby is so unpredictable and it’s so inconvenient. He tries to tamp down the hungry looks so Harry doesn’t notice. </p><p>However, it’s<em> Harry, </em> so of course he notices. “Here, take half,” Harry says, picking it up and breaking it into two parts with no hesitation. </p><p>Louis protests but Harry holds it out expectantly until he takes it. “Thank you,” he says shyly, looking down at the pastry and wondering if it’d be weird if he ate it now even though he hasn’t finished his sandwich. </p><p>“Something sweet for someone sweet,” Harry murmurs, snapping Louis out of his reverie. He says it so quietly, like he didn’t mean for him to hear it. </p><p>But he did hear it, head snapping up to stare at Harry who looks embarrassed. “Sorry, I - never mind.” </p><p>Deciding to let it go in favor of letting his poor heartbeat recover, he busies himself in eating again. </p><p>“I’ve been talking to Liam a bit more,” Harry says after a while, cautiously but hopefully like he doesn’t want their conversation to end just yet and is worried Louis won’t reply. </p><p>As if there was ever any other choice. “That’s great,” he says, genuinely happy to hear that he and Liam are reconnecting. “What about?” </p><p>Harry shrugs. “Just catching up on everything that happened over the past few years.” He smiles at Louis. “He told me you’re the reason he got a job at Cartier in the first place.” </p><p>Louis scoffs. Liam is such a liar, honestly. “All I did was get them to look at some of his stuff. His talent is what got him the job.”</p><p>“That’s true,” Harry says. “But you still helped make it happen. I’m not surprised - you’re always looking out for friends and family.” </p><p>Once again flustered, Louis clears his throat. “I hardly did anything,” he says weakly. “I just suggested it. I probably shouldn’t have looking back on it - I was still new and it was, like, the exact day after I came back from New York and I was still exhausted and not thinking straight.” He shakes his head. </p><p>“I can’t believe you went to New York,” Harry says with a chuckle. “That you were living among Americans for a year!” </p><p>Louis giggles at that too. “I needed the change,” he admits, shrugging nonchalantly. </p><p>“Right,” Harry says, sobering up. He ducks his head. “I know I’m the reason, you don’t have to pretend,” he adds softly. </p><p>“It wasn’t - it wasn’t just because of you,” Louis says awkwardly. “I really wanted that internship and never in a million years thought I’d get it. Escaping was just an extra bonus, really.” </p><p>“Still… I’m sorry, Louis,” Harry says. </p><p>His heart twists. “You’ve said it already,” Louis murmurs gently. “And I forgive you.” </p><p>Harry nods, lips rolling together as if he’s conflicted about something. “It’s funny… I don’t think I ever told you but…” He pauses to bite his lip, gaze darting away in embarrassment. “I actually went to New York when I found out you were there.” </p><p>It takes a second for the words to process and when they do, Louis freezes, paralyzed in place. He thinks back to when Niall said he was there when Harry came back from New York. “What?”</p><p>Harry seems to be focusing all his attention on the countertop, shoulders hunching in. “I went to New York to find you… and apologize.” </p><p>“When?” Louis breathes, heart pounding. Harry went to New York to find him and apologize? Harry went to New York to find him and apologize -</p><p>“Think it was about four months after you left,” Harry murmurs, ducking his head. “I wasn’t doing too well… I bumped into Liam at the grocery store and he gave me the cold shoulder at first before relenting when I didn’t stop. I asked him how you were and he told me you were in New York once he realized I wasn’t going to give it up. I, um, really missed you.” His voice dips down at the end unsurely, a light blush on his cheeks. “I bought a plane ticket the next day.”</p><p>“You… but -” Louis fumbles to understand. Harry went to New York. He went to New York because he missed Louis. “What happened?” he asks then, curiosity rising. Harry went to New York to see him… but he never actually saw him. </p><p>A grimace spreads across Harry’s face. “I was going to show up at your doorstep and surprise you - got a bouquet of lavender and everything, but, uh…” His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. “I saw you with this guy outside the building and couldn’t do it.” </p><p>Louis sucks in a breath, distress pooling in his stomach as the words sink in. Harry probably saw him with one of his flings. There had been a lot back then, so many desperate attempts to erase the memories of Harry’s hands on his skin. He brought a lot of them back to his flat too - a small little apartment he was sharing with another intern that was never home. </p><p>Harry went after him. He wasn’t over Louis. Maybe he was even trying to get him back, Louis thinks. <em>A bouquet of lavender.</em> And all this time, Louis had no idea. </p><p>“Looking back on it now, I wish I still did it,” Harry continues after a moment, finally turning back to look at Louis intently. There’s a layer of pleading in his eyes, like he’s trying to get Louis to understand. “I made the biggest mis -”</p><p>A loud ring makes them both jump and Louis stiffens when he realizes it was his phone. He almost grimaces himself when he sees it’s Dean calling. </p><p>“You should take that,” Harry says gruffly, startling him. He’s got that frown on his face again - the one that’s become solely reserved for Dean Cartier. </p><p>“Yeah,” Louis agrees, but he really doesn’t want to. Harry was trying to tell him something and he’s aching to hear the rest, but one glimpse of the resigned expression on his face tells Louis that Harry’s already let it go. “Um, one second,” he says. </p><p>He stands up to take the call, not wanting to talk to Dean when Harry’s right next to him, perfect and amazing and everything he wants. </p><p>“What do you want?” he sighs. </p><p>“Hey, <em> dear,” </em>Dean says mockingly, already grating at Louis’ nerves even though it’s been a second. “Mum wants to invite you and your family over to dinner tonight.” </p><p>He sighs again, already exhausted at the thought. “Fine,” he relents right away. He’s too tired of everything to argue. Tired and scared. Dean had been right. “Is there anything else?” he asks, glancing back to where Harry sits at the counter, turned away from him. Even a small glimpse of those dark curls is enough to ease the weight in his chest. </p><p>The small things, he thinks. </p><p>Dean hums, like he’s mulling it over. Except all he says is, “Not really.” </p><p>“Okay, then,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. “Bye, <em> dear.” </em>He hangs up before Dean can reply, biting his cheek. He gives himself a second to calm down before returning to Harry. </p><p>Eager to get back to the previous subject, he hastily brings it up again. “So what were you saying about-”</p><p>“Uh, I actually just realized I have to go,” Harry interrupts abruptly, face blank when he turns to look at him. “I have some calls to make for this other client.” He stands up before Louis can react, posture stiff. “It was good to see you, Louis.” </p><p>Louis, not Lou. He nods jerkily, heart sinking as he exhales. “You too.” </p><p>Harry walks away before he can say goodbye and Louis is left standing there, once again alone. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>He gets back from the Cartiers after midnight, murmuring hushed apologies to Zayn who’s in the living room on a call with his family. His cheeks are sore from a night of fake smiles and strained laughs and his shoulders are still tense from every time his parents interacted with Dean. They talked to him at the engagement party last week but this was different - more intimate, more chances at mistakes. And Louis spent the entire meal panicked that they’d be able to <em> tell </em>the moment he opened his entitled, arrogant mouth. </p><p>However, Dean was on his best behavior throughout the dinner and succeeded in charming his parents like he charmed Louis all those months ago. Mr. and Mrs. Cartier too, were the picture of kindness and just the right amount of mystery that was enough to draw his family in. All he could think of as they interacted was Dean’s words about how Cartier meant more than Tomlinson, hands clenched under the tablecloth as they were served food. </p><p>They’re still clenched now as he changes into his softest pajamas and pads into the bathroom to brush his teeth, movements languid and unconscious as he rinses and then washes his face. There’s a lump in his throat that he knows will stay for a while, a pressure in his lungs that won’t let up. </p><p>He slides into bed and curls into the pillow, wishing once again that he wasn’t sleeping alone. When he closes his eyes and thinks hard enough, he can almost pretend there’s lips ghosting over the nape of his neck. A large hand settling over his stomach. Legs tangling with his. </p><p>In his dreams, Harry finds him in New York and gives him the bouquet. They get back together and Louis comes back to London a year later with a fiance and a lovely ring on his finger. In his dreams, Louis gets married and the only tears are happy ones. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>The next few days pass in a blur as his time runs out and he gets closer and closer to the wedding.</p><p>He has his second official doctor’s appointment, relieved when Dr. Zoyansky tells him his baby is healthy and that he’s doing better. He listens as she explains that his baby is growing bones and cartilage, nodding when she tells him he should be getting a lot of Vitamin C and taking it slow. </p><p>They end the appointment with another ultrasound, and Louis listens to the shaky heartbeat of his baby with teary eyes, letting it lull him into a state of resolve. </p><p>He <em> will </em>get through this. </p><p>That evening is the bachelor party. He spends a glorious night with his closest friends on a boat that Liam and Zayn rented. They eat his favorite foods and listen to his favorite music and drink wine (in his case,<em> pretends </em> to drink wine) under the night sky with the stars as their witness. </p><p>They return to dock at around two in the morning but most of them stay aboard until morning. Louis sleeps out on the deck and wakes up with Perrie on one side and Bebe on the other. It’s a welcome feeling after waking up alone for so long. </p><p>He spends the rest of the day with his family, soaking in as many of the little things as he possibly can, trying not to think about Dean or Harry or the wedding. </p><p>This time he wakes up with Daisy on one side and Lottie’s hair in his mouth. It still feels nice, especially when he checks his phone to see the reminder for the rehearsal dinner tonight. It hits him like a rock. The wedding is tomorrow. </p><p>Tomorrow is when it all ends. </p><p>But first, the rehearsal. It seems fitting, really, that it’s called a rehearsal like they’re practicing for the play. And like a play, this wedding is all an act.</p><p>He puts on the mango socks. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>Louis’ feet are swelling by the time they’ve finally gotten the procession down. The groomsmen and women have been rearranged and positioned a million times before they finally settled on an order- ‘they’ being Niall and Harry and Mrs. Cartier who Louis is pretty sure hasn’t stopped talking since the moment she arrived. </p><p>He’s standing by the doors where he’s been standing for at least half an hour, the beginnings of a headache throbbing in his temples. Zayn and Liam are waiting nearby along with Gigi and Bebe who’s acting as Liam’s date, all four of them getting just as antsy. He can peer into the hall and see Dean at the altar, tapping furiously on his phone and paying no attention to his surroundings. His brother and best man chatting loudly to the rest of his groomsmen about the girl he pulled last night. </p><p>It had been decided entirely last-minute that Doris and Ernest would be the flower girl and ring-bearer respectively, and his mother is off to the side trying to explain what that entails to their little three-year-old faces for what must be the dozenth time, sending Louis exasperated looks every time Doris flings another handful of flower petals into her face. </p><p>The photographer is playing Candy Crush in the last row just a few seats away from the officiant who’s reading the newspaper. He had claimed his back gets stiff from standing too long and was granted the time to rest. Louis wishes that an excuse like that would work for him, but Mrs. Cartier had only glared at him when he asked if he could sit down for a moment. </p><p>He really hates that woman. </p><p>Shifting uncomfortably again, he sighs. They’re still on the processional but there’s so much left to practice - the recessional (when everyone exits), the receiving line which Louis had to insist on because there’s no way he’s not thanking every single attendee tomorrow no matter how much he doesn’t want to be there, and run over the key points of the ceremony. </p><p>Leigh-Anne catches his eye from where she’s standing arm in arm with Andrew, Dean’s friend. She makes a face and he gives her a half-hearted smile back before doing another quick scan of the line. He ends up making eye contact with Harry which would normally make his heart flutter but Harry looks away immediately and he’s left feeling stung. </p><p>It’s not like he expected anything different. He’s getting <em> married. </em>Harry is his wedding planner. This isn’t a movie where he can leave Dean at the altar and run off with his ex-boyfriend, even though there’s a part deep inside him that aches to. God, he doesn’t even know if Harry still has feelings for him. </p><p>Sure, there’s some lingering fondness - he can’t deny that. And obviously he can see the way Harry stares at him and the fact that there’s so much unresolved tension between them, but he’s not sure. Harry keeps studiously ignoring him as they <em> finally </em> figure out the pairs and have them walk down the aisle. Zayn and Gigi walk second to last, then Liam and Bebe, and then his mother is pretend-walking him down the aisle. </p><p>His throat closes up embarrassingly by the time he reaches the altar but he tamps down any distress, forcing himself not to think too much about how much his heart sinks when he sees Dean standing across from him like he will be tomorrow. </p><p>Next, they begin practicing the recession. In fact he’s been ignoring him ever since the bakery, no more texting or checking in on him and the baby and only a small smile when Louis greeted him upon arriving. </p><p>He and Dean walk out first, and Louis ignores the way everyone watches him with giddy faces, pressure in his chest growing stronger. <em> We’re not together, </em>he wants to scream. He settles for an internal tantrum. </p><p>They’re followed by the best men and then by the rest of the wedding party in their pairs. Louis’ parents come next, then the Cartiers and it surprisingly goes smoothly. Well, smoothly enough that they only have to do one more run-through to satisfy Mrs. Cartier. </p><p>By the time they’re finally wrapping up and Harry has ignored Louis’ eye contact for about the dozenth time, he’s decided he cannot let that stand. He and Niall are off in the corner chatting when Louis approaches, room emptying out as people head to the dining room they have booked for the rehearsal dinner. </p><p>Niall sees him first, raising his eyebrows and nudging Harry in the shoulder who abruptly stops talking. It’s then that Louis notices that his nails are painted lavender. It’s such a small detail and yet it strikes him to the core. </p><p>Majorly feeling like he wants to cry, Louis tries to smile. “I just wanted to thank you guys,” he says hurriedly, ripping his gaze from his favorite color. “For being here and for doing… everything.” </p><p>Harry finally looks at him, face softening the moment their eyes meet. “You’re welcome,” he says. </p><p>“We got paid a lot too, so,” Niall says, snickering when Harry elbows him. “Anyways, the free food in the other room is calling my name.” He smiles at Louis and pats Harry on the shoulder before walking off. </p><p>Louis expects Harry to follow after, back to ignoring him, but he doesn’t. He bites his lip and turns to angle himself towards Louis more deliberately. “How are you feeling?” he asks. </p><p>It’s such a loaded question and Louis doesn’t really know what to say. How is he feeling? Terrified, nauseous, tired, hungry, and angry? Like he wants to run and never look back? “Stressed,” is what he settles on. “Nervous.” </p><p>“That’s normal,” Harry says gently. “It’s going to be fine.” </p><p>“Can I ask you something?” he blurts, a flush spreading across his cheeks. </p><p>“Uh, sure,” Harry says, but he looks hesitant. </p><p>“Did you… did you purposely plan this wedding based off of what I used to say I wanted for my dream wedding,” Louis asks timidly, losing the temporary burst of courage just as quick as he got it. Harry blinks at him confusedly and the regret sets in. “I just… It’s like you knew - or <em> remembered, </em>really - exactly how I wanted things to be. Maybe it’s just a coincidence or something. I’m sorry, that was a dumb question, I’ll just -”</p><p>“Yes,” Harry interrupts. </p><p>He stills. “Yes?” he repeats. He’s been wondering and thinking and maybe even <em> hoping </em>all this time and Harry just confirmed it like that?</p><p>“If you’re asking if I purposely picked and chose things that I knew you’d like, then the answer is yes. I mean - Louis, you’ve been planning your wedding since you were a teenager.” He pauses to chuckle. “I honestly still have no idea why you were so adamant about not being too involved in the planning process, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to give you what I knew you wanted.” </p><p><em> What I knew you wanted. </em>“Oh,” he says faintly. “Thank you.” </p><p>Harry smiles at him softly - a little sadly. “Of course I did, Louis. You deserve the wedding of your dreams. Everyone does, but especially you.” </p><p>And there it is again - the yearning, raw and rooted deep in his chest. At this moment, Louis’ thinking a million things but most of all he’s thinking <em> why isn’t your ring on my finger?  </em></p><p>Because this wedding may be pretty damn close to his dream wedding. But it’s missing the most important part. His dream groom, who’s standing right in front of him. </p><p>“Louis,” Harry says after a moment. He looks conflicted, like he’s not quite sure he wants to say what he’s going to say but he’s going to say it anyway. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something… It’s not -”</p><p>“There you are!” a very annoyingly familiar voice interrupts. Harry goes rigid automatically, words dying on his tongue, and Louis wants to scream.</p><p>“I was just thanking Harry for everything he did for us,” Louis says brightly, ignoring his urge to kick Dean in the balls when he settles an arm around Louis’ waist. He looks dapper in a slim-fit suit and red tie hanging loosely but Louis is seeing red for entirely different reasons. </p><p>“Oh, yes, thank you so much, Harry,” Dean says, switching on his polite voice. “Louis and I really appreciate all your hard work with the vendors and the planning.” There seems to be a deliberate emphasis on ‘Louis and I’ and it makes Louis want to elbow him. “Just can’t believe it’s <em> tomorrow. </em>” </p><p>“Time flies,” Louis says flatly. His gaze flickers back to Harry who’s eyeing Dean with that same blank glare. It shouldn’t be as nice as it feels. </p><p>“Well, it was an honor,” he says after a moment, voice detached. He glances at Louis for a moment before saying, “You guys deserve a great wedding.” </p><p>Fighting a blush, Louis bites his lip. With eyes for only one person, it's incredibly evident Harry doesn't mean both of them. </p><p>And maybe that’s what provokes Dean to do what he does next. He tightens his grip on Louis’ waist and says, “The wedding could be a shack in the middle of the woods and it’d still be perfect because I’d be marrying the love of my life.” And then he ducks down and pecks Louis on the mouth. Or maybe it was supposed to be a peck, but he lingers a bit too, lips dry and completely <em> wrong </em>against Louis’ before he finally pulls back. </p><p>He nearly jerks, all senses flaring in repulsion and discontent as he fights the urge to shudder. Dean just - Dean just kissed him on the mouth. He glances at Harry as a natural reaction, heart pounding in his ears. </p><p>Harry isn’t looking at him, isn’t looking at either of them, but Louis sees the way his face has blanched - the way he’s gripping his phone a little bit tighter. “I should probably go make sure Niall doesn’t harass anyone. Um, best wishes to you both.” </p><p>Then he strides away quickly, his broad frame disappearing out of the hall. </p><p>“Well, that was - <em> ow!” </em>Dean jolts when Louis elbows him in the gut, tears in his eyes. </p><p>“What the hell was that?” he snaps, voice cracking as he fights back a sob. “You can’t just - you can’t just kiss me like that without us talking about it first! Without asking!”</p><p>“Relax,” Dean says. “I was trying to save your arse.” </p><p>“How? By making me physically recoil? Oh yeah, that’s definitely not suspicious!” Louis bites, realizing a second later that he’s literally <em> shaking. </em></p><p>“I did what I could to save the situation,” Dean snaps back. “God, you were looking at him like you wanted him to sweep you up and take you far away. You’re not some princess in a tower and he’s not your knight coming to save you. We’re getting <em> married, </em>Louis. So act like it.”</p><p>Louis exhales, heart still racing. He doesn’t respond. </p><p>“Besides, he’s never seen us kiss before which was probably already suspicious. And now that he has, he won’t ever forget it,” Dean says, taking a deep breath. “Now, c’mon. We have a dinner to get to. I’m not letting you ruin this for us. Not when we’re so close.” </p><p>“I’m not going to ruin anything,” Louis says quietly, exhaustion coating his words. He slumps, already surrendering. “I’m not - nothing is happening, nor <em> will </em>happen with Harry. I promise you.” </p><p>“Good,” Dean says. “Let’s go.” </p><p>They walk into the dining room together, hand in hand. Louis spends the dinner touching Dean’s shoulder and letting him put a hand on his thigh and then brush a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. His lips hurt from smiling so much, stomach churning with every soft grin he directs to his beloved fiance. He doesn't even flinch when Dean flattens a hand over his stomach to sell it to Zayn and Liam. They put on a perfect performance. </p><p>And this time, <em>he </em>doesn't look at Harry once. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>“Is it okay if I stay with Gigi at the hotel tonight?” Zayn asks him sometime after dessert. “She’s not feeling the best and I want to make sure she’s well so she doesn’t miss the reception tomorrow.” </p><p>“Of course,” Louis says, brows furrowing in worry. “How bad is it? Tell her I hope she feels better.” </p><p>“Hopefully not too bad. Gonna keep an eye on her - make sure she drinks a lot of fluids and stuff,” he says, before placing a hand on his shoulder. “No matter what, Lou, I’ll be there tomorrow as your best man, watching you walk down the aisle like a fucking legend.”</p><p>“I’m not worried,” Louis tells him honestly, placing his hand over Zayn’s and pressing down lightly. </p><p>He should have known he’d be spending the night before the big day by himself anyway - it’s only fitting after all. </p><p>No music plays on his drive back, too stuck in the murky depths of his mind to pay any attention to outside noises. </p><p>Even more fitting - it starts raining when he finally arrives. It’s so startling that Louis starts laughing, loud and a little choked. He opens the car door and steps into it, wet droplets splattering onto his silk shirt and then his exposed face as he cranes his head up to the sky, eyes fluttering shut to avoid assault. </p><p>He stands there for longer than he expects, completely soaked and shivering by the time he finally stumbles into the building. His fingers are pale when he hits the button for his floor, the sound of his teeth chattering a stark contrast from the generic elevator music. </p><p>The hallway seems oddly desolate as he heads for his door, walls trembling in his blurry vision like they’re going to close in on him. It feels like relief when his hand grips the doorknob and he exhales, fumbling for his key. </p><p>His flat is undeniably empty when he steps in, the silence of the room feeling almost deafening to Louis’ tender ears. He shuffles towards the coat rack, struggling with his wet shoes for a minute before leaving them unceremoniously on the carpet. </p><p>Normally he keeps his shoes lined up neatly, but right now he doesn’t see the point. His life was a neat little line once too, and look how that worked out for him. He’s nothing but a lone wet shoe in a bare flat. </p><p>He debates the merits of going to bed early or having a nice cry on the couch as he heads to the bedroom. His phone dings with a message from one of his coworkers, but the words bleed into a gray stain that he’s helpless to decipher. </p><p>Changing into soft pajamas does little to help his mood, so he treks to the kitchen next and grabs a box of cereal. Crying on the couch seems to be where his night is naturally heading so he surrenders to it, picking up his abandoned fluffy blanket upon entering the living room before flopping onto the couch. </p><p>Watching one of his favorites doesn’t seem appealing either - everything too bleak to properly enjoy his usual comforts. He stuffs dry cereal into his mouth as he flicks through the channels, eyes glazing over at the harsh light of the screen. It’s too hot to be wrapped in a thick blanket like this too, but he endures it, toes curling into the couch cushions as he pulls his knees to his chest. </p><p>The knock on the door comes as a shock. </p><p>A quick glance to his abandoned phone confirms that it’s just after midnight. Zayn would text him if he ended up changing his mind about staying the night with Gigi and his family wouldn’t ambush him either. His guesses range from Liam checking in on him to Perrie, Leigh-Anne, Jade, and Jesy surprising him with a “girls’ night” to distract him from any nerves. However, he opens the door and finds that it is none of the above. </p><p>Because Harry is staring at him, just as sopping wet as Louis was and somehow even more forlorn looking. </p><p>“Hi,” he says after a lengthy pause, eyes flickering over Louis’ frame like a natural reaction to seeing wet clothes. </p><p>“Uh,” Louis says, not quite believing his own sight. “Hi?”</p><p>“I need to, uh, speak with you,” he says. He’s speaking slower than usual, and that’s when Louis realizes. </p><p>“Are you drunk?” he blurts, even more stunned. </p><p>Harry shakes his head empathetically. “Had a few drinks, but m’not drunk,” he says. He’s able to respond clearly and that along with the intensity and directness of his gaze as he focuses on Louis are enough to prove that he’s telling the truth. </p><p>“What are you doing here?” Louis asks next, concern already prickling at his insides when Harry shivers the slightest bit. </p><p>“I need to say something,” Harry says, grimacing like he can’t actually believe he’s here. It makes two of them. “And it might just make things worse, but I need to say it.” </p><p>“Are you sure you don’t want to wait till morning,” Louis says gently, frowning when Harry shivers again. He opens the door more fully before he can overthink it. “Also, come in, you’re going to catch a cold.” </p><p>He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t,” he says. “You’ll probably kick me out after I say it so it’s easier if I do this here.” </p><p>“At least step in,” Louis urges, sighing in relief when Harry obliges. He catches him shiver, concern growing. "Do you want me to get you a blanket?"</p><p>"No, that's fine," Harry says, reaching out to touch Louis' shoulder carefully when he turns to go anyway. Louis feels the imprint of Harry's fingers lingering on him, traces of heat burning against his cold skin. “I’m sorry for bothering you,” Harry adds, blinking slowly. It's then Louis notices the redness in his eyes - like he's been crying. His hair is falling into his eyes too, messy like he’s been running his hands through them. “This was sort of spur of the moment.”</p><p>“What was?” Louis asks softly, insides aching at the sight of Harry so upset. </p><p>Harry stares at him with an unreadable expression, devoid of anything but honesty. “What do you think?” </p><p>His heart skips a beat and he stutters, lips parting. “Harry, what -”</p><p>“Louis, you’ve been driving me crazy,” Harry interrupts. </p><p><em> Oh. </em>“Um,” Louis says. A traitorous flicker of hope is rising inside him no matter how much he tries to drown it out. If Harry is getting to what he thinks he is, he still can’t have it, he tells himself. He isn't allowed to have it. </p><p>“And I’ve been trying to ignore it, but I can’t,” Harry continues, voice ragged. “I <em> can’t. </em>It’s tearing me apart from the inside.” </p><p><em>God, </em>Louis needs to shut this down before he won’t be able to, that flicker of hope close to becoming a blaze. “Harry, maybe you should come back in the morning," he says. His mind roars in protest, but he plunges on. "I don’t know if this is something you genuinely want to be having right now when you're clearly upset and not thinking properly."</p><p>“Do you know how hard it is to watch you with him?” Harry says as if Louis never spoke at all, sounding broken. </p><p>Louis stills, taken aback. “What?” he asks dumbly. </p><p>“To watch you. With Dean,” Harry says, words choppy. “When he touches you - when he puts his arm around your waist or his hand on your shoulder? Do you know how hard it is to watch that? And yesterday when he kissed you - I couldn’t - I couldn’t handle it. It was like a physical pain whenever he even looked at you.”</p><p>“Harry,” Louis tries again, weaker this time. The hope is flooding through his veins, bursting at his ribs. “Harry, think about what you’re saying.” </p><p>“I’ve been thinking this entire month,” Harry says, shaking his head. “Thinking and remembering and wondering how things could have been…”</p><p>Swallowing, Louis tries to speak, but no words come out. </p><p>“God, I can’t stop thinking,” Harry says. “It took me a bit to figure it out - figure out <em> why </em>it hurt so much, but in hindsight it was obvious. It hurt to see him in the place that I wanted to be.” </p><p>The words echo between them, solidifying and hardening until it’s impossible to escape. </p><p>“You -” Louis is struck speechless. <em> It hurt to see him in the place I wanted to be </em>repeats over and over in his mind. “What does that mean?” </p><p>Harry lets out a hoarse laugh, water dripping from his clothes onto the floor. “Louis, what do you think it means?” </p><p>Louis feels the telltale prickling in his eyes alerting him to tears. He was supposed to be crying on the couch right now, not in the foyer in his pajamas with his ex-boyfriend across from him. </p><p>“And the fact that you’re having <em> his </em> baby,” Harry continues, hands shaking. Louis stares at the lavender nail polish again, wondering how hard it was for him to put on. “And it’s so awful of me - to be thinking these things and being jealous - so fucking jealous. But I can’t stop. All I can keep thinking is why did I fuck everything up? Fuck <em> us </em>up?” </p><p>“You didn’t fuck anything up,” Louis protests, voice wavering as the lump in his throat grows. He’s going to burst into tears any second now, he knows it. He needs Harry to stop before it all comes out and it’s much too late. It’s too much - all of this is too much. His heart is already fractured, he doesn’t need to twist the knife anymore. “I don’t understand what you’re doing.” </p><p>“I’m in love with you,” Harry breathes. Easy. Voice steady with conviction. <em> Honest.  </em></p><p>Louis chokes at that, hot tears falling onto his cheeks as he shakes his head violently. “No,” he manages to choke out. “Harry -” </p><p>Harry shakes his head too. “I have to say it,” he says. “Louis, I’m so unbelievably in love with you. I’ve been since I was eighteen. I don’t think I ever stopped, don’t think I ever will. Because I<em> can’t, </em>Lou. I’ve tried - I've tried so many times, but I can’t get over you.”</p><p>“Stop,” Louis begs, shaking as Harry steps closer, first instinct always to comfort and take care of. Something Louis loves about him, out of many things he loves about him. Because he’s <em> in love </em>with Harry - he’s in love with Harry and Harry’s in love with him too and somehow it’s even worse than if he wasn’t. Because if he wasn’t, it’d just be yearning and pining on Louis’ end, and nothing could come of it no matter how much he ached for it. But Harry loves him. He loves him and Louis can’t be with him, can’t even tell him he loves him too. He doesn’t get this happy ending - not today, not now, maybe not ever. “Harry, stop.”</p><p>“Just let me say it,” Harry whispers. “<em>Please."</em></p><p>Unable to deny him even after all these years, Louis just stays silent.</p><p>“Breaking up with you was the worst mistake I’ve ever made,” Harry says slowly, voice heavy with sharp pain and suffocating regret. “And if I could go back and change it all, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”</p><p>Louis really can’t listen to this. He opens his mouth but yet again no words slide out. </p><p>“You’re the only person I’ve ever truly wanted to spend the rest of my life with,” Harry continues hoarsely. “At the time, that scared me. We were both young and I had no fucking clue what I wanted to do with my life. The love I felt for you was the only thing that made sense and that scared me, but it shouldn’t have. I should have realized sooner that it’s such a beautiful and lucky thing, finding your person at such a young age. Finding that person who ruins you for anyone else - that makes you feel more than you ever thought possible. Most people don’t even find their person. I did - I was so fucking lucky. But like a fool, I threw it away.” </p><p>“Harry,” Louis pleads, shaking his head. Tears are streaming down his face and under the light of the moon, he can see a matching wetness on Harry’s cheeks. </p><p>“And by the time I realized, it was too late. You were in New York and I was a coward. I should have given you the damn flowers,” Harry says, voice cracking at ‘flowers.’ He shakes his head again, as if clearing his thoughts. “I’m sorry I ended it. I’m sorry I left you. My person.”</p><p>“I forgave you already,” Louis chokes. “But, Harry -”</p><p>“I know I shouldn’t be doing this,” Harry interrupts, taking a step forward. “You’re getting married. You’re happy and successful and you’re having a baby - <em> his </em> baby. But I needed to tell you how I feel. It’s like - it’s like my heart has started beating again for the first time in a long time. Because you <em> are </em>my heart. No one else has or can come close. I’m so in love with you and I don’t want you to marry him.” </p><p>Louis’ breath hitches. Harry’s so close now, close enough for him to see the deep yearning in his eyes and the way he’s looming closer, hands twitching like he wants to reach out and take Louis into his arms. Louis would let him, he thinks, and that’s the exact problem. He takes a step back. </p><p>Harry watches him do it without a word. “You deserve better, Louis,” he says firmly. </p><p>“You can’t do this,” Louis says meekly. “Dean’s my fiance.”</p><p>“He doesn’t treat you like you deserve,” Harry insists. “Louis, you can’t tell me this is what you wanted? This big and flashy wedding? Letting the wedding planner make all the decisions? Keeping your baby a secret from your family and friends when it’s all you’ve ever wanted? Your fiance flirting with your coworker in front of you?” Louis winces. So Niall did tell him. “Not to mention how tired and sad you are all the time. If he was taking care of you properly, you’d be happy like you always should be. I’m not even trying to say I could treat you better even though I could - you know I could. But you still deserve better.”</p><p>“He wasn’t flirting,” he says weakly. “And I<em> am </em> happy.” His words wobble but he says them firmly. A tightness is forming in his chest, filling his lungs and making him tremble. Harry is saying everything right, saying everything he wants to hear. But he can’t listen. <em> No happy ending, </em>he thinks. No happy ending for his story. </p><p>“Do you love him?” Harry asks quietly. </p><p>“I…” Louis breaks off, taken aback. For a moment, they just gaze at each other, the space between them crackling and pulsing with anticipation and tension. This is the turning point. This is the ending point.  “I do,” Louis says, firm and resolute. “I love him.” </p><p>Harry exhales, rocking back on his feet like he’s been punched in the gut. “Okay,” he breathes. “I… okay.” </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Louis says, because he can’t help it. The hurt and resignation blooming on Harry’s face feels like he’s being stabbed over and over. He did that. He caused that. He’s got Harry within his grasp for the first time in years and he can’t have him. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“No, don’t… don’t apologize,” Harry says softly. He sounds so sad and it makes Louis’ heart clench. Harry takes a deep breath. “This was stupid of me. I’ll leave you alone, Louis, I promise. I just…”</p><p>He pulls an envelope from his pocket and holds it out. </p><p>Louis stares at it, curious and confused. </p><p>“Look at this,” Harry says. “Please, just - I can’t let you marry him without knowing, Louis. Even if you don’t love me anymore, you need to see this. You deserve to know.”</p><p><em> Know what? </em>Louis wonders, insides already contracting excruciatingly at the fact that Harry thinks he doesn’t love him back when it couldn’t be farther from the truth. With shaking fingers, he grips the envelope and takes it from Harry. It’s extremely light in his hands, just a flimsy envelope holding something Harry is desperate for him to see in its depths. </p><p>“I’m sorry for coming here and making you cry,” Harry says abruptly, sounding so unsure and unlike himself that Louis wants to cry harder. “Just - take care of yourself, okay? Please take care of yourself. Yourself and the baby.” He looks pained, blinking back the wetness in his eyes. “Please don’t cry. It’s not worth your tears. This isn’t your fault. You’re getting married tomorrow, please be happy.” </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Louis breathes, voice shaky, “that I can’t give you what you’re looking for.” It’s the most honest thing he’s said all night. </p><p>Harry nods slowly. He turns around, pausing for a moment before saying, so quietly Louis almost misses it, “All I want is for you to be happy.” </p><p>He opens the door and closes it quietly behind him, the sound echoing in the once again lonely flat as Louis’ heart shatters in his chest. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>Louis spends the next hour pacing his bedroom. His feet are bare, toes curling into the cold floor as he walks line after line across the room, eyes fixed to the wood beneath him. </p><p>The envelope is sitting innocently on his desk, containing something unknown that Harry seemed so desperate to give him. He hasn’t opened it yet and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to, hands shaking at the mere thought. </p><p>Harry’s words replay in an endless loop in his head. <em> I’m in love with you.  </em></p><p>
  <em> I don’t want you to marry him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Do you love him?  </em>
</p><p>He doesn’t. He loves Harry, loves Harry more than anything which is exactly why he had to send him away. </p><p>The slow tick of his clock haunts him, the minute hand eternally moving forward as time runs out and Louis’ freedom dwindles with it. Married. He’s going to be married tomorrow and he’s standing here in his pajamas with a baby in his stomach and the love of his life on the other side of an uncrossable chasm.</p><p>How is he supposed to open that envelope? How is he supposed to trust that his resolve is strong enough to endure whatever’s hidden in its depths? That he won’t cave in and throw it all away for love?</p><p>Because this is no movie and it’s definitely no happy ending.</p><p>He stares at it blankly, letting the creamy paper sear into his vision until everything goes blurry. His curiosity and desperation flares and he exhales slowly. There’s no way he’s not going to open it - he can’t <em> not.  </em></p><p>With that in mind, he takes a step.</p><p>Hesitation festers in his mind and he stills, breathing in and out. What if it does crack his resolve? What if this changes everything? </p><p><em> Don’t open it, </em>his mind is saying. </p><p><em> But you need to know, </em>his heart urges. </p><p>He does. He needs to know. He’ll regret it if he doesn’t look. So he crosses the remaining distance between him and the desk and picks up the envelope with quivering fingers. <em> Count of three, </em>he decides. </p><p><em> Three. </em>He slips a thumb under the seal and begins sliding it open.</p><p><em> Two. </em>The flap comes off and he closes his eyes for a minute, heart pounding against his chest like a drum. The roar of each beat reverbates in his ears until he’s gasping. </p><p><em> One. </em>He keeps his eyes closed, reaching in the envelope and fumbling for its contents.</p><p>He pulls out a single sheet of paper that feels glossy against his skin and frowns.</p><p>
  <em> Zero. </em>
</p><p>His eyes flutter open, narrowing in on the item in his hand. He blinks, freezing.</p><p>Louis drops the picture, mouth falling open in shock. </p><p>For a minute, he just stands there, rigid and rendered speechless. His chest continues to rise and fall. His heart continues to beat steadily. He continues to <em> live, </em>mind whirling as it recovers from what he just saw and let it process fully. </p><p>The first thing he does when he comes back to himself completely is fumble for his phone. He dials a familiar number, breathing in and out in measured counts of three and trying to calm the adrenaline pumping through his veins. </p><p>“Hello?” says a voice, groggy and slurred like he had just been asleep. He sounds a bit drunk too, undoubtedly taking advantage of the hotel’s fancy wine collection like many of the other guests, but Louis is far past the point of caring. </p><p>“Liam,” he breathes, inhaling harshly. The photo flashes in his eyes, inescapable and undeniable. A grin begins to curve at his lips as a flicker of hope ignites in his chest. This time he doesn’t try to tamp it out. Hope is a powerful thing, he figures. And if this is going to happen, he’s going to need a lot of it. “Liam, I need your help.”</p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>The rain has miraculously stopped by the time Liam pulls up to the pavement, door swinging open carelessly as he rushes towards Louis who’s shivering nearby. </p><p>“What is going on?” he gasps out, sounding breathless. </p><p>Louis is crying again, hands shaking as he pulls out the picture to show to Liam. The picture that very clearly shows a man and woman kissing at the door to a hotel room, inching towards something further - proof of <em> Dean Cartier </em>cheating on him three days ago in his grasp. </p><p>Liam blanches, eyes bulging in shock and horror. “Oh my god,” he says. “Oh my god, Lou, I’m so sorry. I - wait. Why are you smiling?”</p><p>He is smiling, like a flower whose petals are finally unfurling. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. His beam dims, but not entirely. “I have to tell you a story. But it’s not a good one.” </p><p>Predictably, Liam looks even more confused at the vague words, but he lets Louis lead the way back into the building and to the elevator. </p><p>“Are you okay?” he asks again, when the elevator doors open and Louis is herding him forward into the hallway. “I’m really confused right now, just so you know.” </p><p>Louis waits until they get to his door, inserting the key and gesturing for Liam to go first before closing it behind them. Then he exhales. “I am not getting married tomorrow.”</p><p>It comes out firm and steady. A fact, not just a wish. </p><p>“What?” Liam blurts, eyes as wide as saucers. </p><p>“I’m not getting married tomorrow,” he repeats, feeling giddy. He probably looks crazy, trying not to laugh with glee as he says it again and again. “I’m not getting fucking married tomorrow!” </p><p>“What?” Liam repeats, following Louis as he heads for the living room. </p><p>“I guess the first question I should be asking before I jinx it is are you still in contact with that lawyer friend who’s got a perfect record?” he asks. </p><p>A pause. <em> “What?”  </em></p><p>Louis tells him the story. </p><p>By the end of it, Liam is understandably shocked, mouth dropped open and eyes still wide. However, it doesn’t take long before a fire of anger is burning in his eyes as he finally responds. The whole signing of the contract event in general seems to have him livid. </p><p>“It was four against one in that room and that’s <em> fucked up </em> ,” he exclaims angrily, all traces of intoxication gone. “They purposely made sure you were alone and vulnerable so they could get what they want. They set it all up, Lou. It was all some sort of shitty power play to goad you into agreeing into their terms. Not to mention he fucking threatened your career. Threatening to ruin your career unless you obey his conditions - that’s <em> blackmail! </em> And that’s not fucking okay,” he continues, looking furious as he pulls out his phone. </p><p>Louis shakes his head, shuddering. “It was awful,” he agrees, then bites his bottom lip. “God, do you think this will work?” </p><p>“I’m texting my sister to ask her opinion,” Liam says, tapping the screen aggressively as the furrow between his brows becomes more pronounced. His sister is an attorney with a ridiculously impressive success rate and if anyone can tell them if Louis’ idea is feasible, it’s her. “That picture shows Dean at the Dorchester right? Is there anything we can use to prove which day it was taken?” </p><p>“He’s wearing the same outfit he was papped wearing earlier that night when me and him came back from dinner with the Cartiers,” Louis says, shaking his head in disbelief. Dean really went and slept with someone the same day he lectured Louis about not fucking things up. The same day they filled out their marriage license and Louis agreed to be a Cartier.  </p><p>“I feel like I’ve already gotten my hopes up,” he confesses after a beat. “But, I just - I can’t marry Dean. I can’t be a Cartier, I can’t.” Harry’s anguished face flashes in his mind and he shrinks into himself. </p><p>“You won’t have to,” Liam says firmly. “I’m serious, Louis. You are not walking down that aisle tomorrow. Not yet.” </p><p>Louis exhales. “Thank you,” he says empathetically, eyes welling up again so fast he’s left panting. “Oh my god, I’ve been wanting to tell you for weeks,” he rasps wetly. “You and Zayn and - <em> fuck, </em> everyone.” </p><p>“Get over here,” Liam says, letting Louis barrel into him on the couch, burying his face in the fabric of his sweatshirt. “I can’t believe you’ve been carrying all this weight for so long,” he says softly. </p><p>“Me either,” Louis whispers. “Liam.” </p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Harry came over earlier,” he murmurs. “To give me the picture… and to tell me he’s in love with me.” </p><p>Liam is quiet for a moment, and then, “I knew it.” </p><p>“Shut up,” Louis complains, elbowing him in the ribs. He’s still a bit teary, sniffling timidly. “I’m in love with him too.”</p><p>“Of course you are,” Liam says. Simple and easy. </p><p>“Liam,” Louis says again. </p><p>It’s a testament to how patient of a friend Liam is that he hasn’t snapped at Louis’ repetitive dialogue by now. “Yeah?” </p><p>“I want to be with Harry,” he breathes. </p><p>Softening in an instant, Liam pats his shoulder lightly. “I think it’s mutual,” he says. </p><p>Mutual. It is definitely mutual, he thinks. And yet that awareness has little to lessen the yearning in his heart. “But first, we have to deal with my fake fiance,” Louis sighs. </p><p>“Do you have his address?” Liam asks, frowning as he scrolls on his phone. </p><p>“Yes,” Louis nods, and then recites it. He’s only been there once - when he and Dean slept together - and has never had any motivation to return. It’s the origin of all this mess. The beginning of the play. He supposes it’s only fitting he’s only going back to cross over into the final act. </p><p>“Alright then,” Liam says, looking up at Louis with a gentle but determined expression on his face. “Let’s stop this wedding.”   </p><p>“Let’s stop this wedding,” Louis echoes. He says it quietly but his voice is filled with steady conviction. </p><p>They both stand up, ready to go. Well, Louis still has to change into proper clothes before they can actually leave, but it doesn’t change the crux of the matter. He’s <em> ready. </em>He’s ready and he’s not getting married tomorrow. </p><p>And most of all, he is not, and will never be, a Cartier. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>It takes close to ten minutes of incessant banging on the door for Dean to open it, hair tousled and a snarl on his face. “What the <em> fuck,” </em>he hisses, glaring at both of them. “You’re going to get me a noise complaint!” </p><p>Louis steps forward and holds up the picture he’s been clutching in a death grip for the past five minutes as they rode the elevator to the penthouse where Dean lives after driving here as fast as possible. While Liam was mostly sober again, Louis still insisted on driving, fingers pale and rigid against the steering wheel the whole time. </p><p>The way Dean’s face blanches is oddly satisfying, mouth dropping open in shock. “Where’d you get that?” he demands. </p><p>“Let us in, asshole,” Liam says gruffly, not waiting for Dean to move aside before he’s shouldering past him. </p><p>“So this wasn’t an intentional attempt to get out of the wedding,” Louis assumes curiously. </p><p>“Are you fucking serious? My parents would kill me,” Dean says, shooting him a look like <em> have you forgotten you’re scared of them too?  </em></p><p>Louis is tired of being scared. </p><p>“Either way, I have a proposition for you,” he continues, following Liam to Dean’s living room. Everything is sleek and minimalistic - it feels uncomfortably sterile and for a second, Louis almost pities Dean for lack of a true <em> home </em> he’s experienced. </p><p>Only for a second. </p><p>“What sort of proposition?” Dean asks irritatedly. “And couldn’t this wait until after the wedding?”</p><p>“There isn’t going to be a wedding,” Liam says before Louis can, nostrils flaring as he glares at Dean again. “Asshole.” </p><p>Dean immediately turns and scowls at Louis. “You told him.” It’s not a question. </p><p>“We’re not getting married tomorrow,” is all he says in reply. “Because you and I are going to go to your parents and tell them we’re not going through with it.” </p><p>“Are you crazy?” Dean blurts, looking between the two of them in equal parts confusion and annoyance. </p><p>“Listen,” Louis says with a sigh. “The only way to legally break a contract is if all parties consent to it. Me and you obviously don’t want to get married, but the Cartiers are an involved party too. Which means they have to consent to it.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Dean says slowly - annoyedly. “And that’s not going to fucking happen so, again, why the<em> fuck </em> are you here at three in the <em> fucking </em> morning?” </p><p>Louis hadn’t even realized it’s gotten that late, glancing out the window to see a dusky pale sky. It’s technically morning, but their night is far from over. He clears his throat. “What matters to your parents more than anything?”</p><p>Scowling, Dean rolls his eyes. “We’re playing guessing games now, of course!” </p><p>He grits his teeth. “Dean. What matters to your more parents more than anything?” </p><p>“Uh, money? Success?” Dean says, gesturing randomly as he heads to the couch and flops onto it. “What the fuck is the point of all this?” </p><p>“Reputation,” Louis says sharply. The word reverberates through the room. “Reputation matters to them more than anything. Image. How they look to the public. The Cartier trademark - that’s everything to them.” </p><p>Dean frowns at him, but there’s a flicker of something there - a flicker of curiosity. Louis latches onto it and doesn’t let go. </p><p>“The whole reason all of this happened is because they don’t want to taint the family reputation, right? Because you knocking up a company employee is pretty scandalous -”</p><p>“Louis,” Dean interrupts, face pinched. “The point?” </p><p>“The point is that they thought this wedding was the only way to salvage any potential damage to their reputation,” Louis continues. “What if that wasn’t the case?” He turns to look at Dean, translating the blank expression on his face as something akin to <em> my fiance is crazy </em>before taking a deep breath. “What would happen if that photo of you cheating got out?” </p><p>“Don’t you fucking dare,” Dean hisses, finally looking panicked. “I’m serious, Louis - I know we’re not friends or anything but this would mess everything up. I’d -”</p><p>“That’s it,” Louis says. “That’s exactly it. You cheating would ruin the reputation. Or at least put a hefty dent in it. But what if we set it on fire?” </p><p>“What if we set what on fire?” Dean asks, even more confused. </p><p>Louis tips his head back on a silent groan. “Dean, what I’m saying is - what if we take these pictures to your parents and threaten to expose them? And then have you confirm it to the media when asked? And not just that, but what if we threaten to cause all other sorts of trouble? They’d do anything to keep their image intact, including dissolving this contract and letting us stop the wedding.” </p><p>Dean blinks, a wave of something unreadable passing over his face. “But -”</p><p>“You’re right, we’re not friends. We don’t get along. And quite honestly, you <em> are </em>an asshole,” Louis interrupts. “But you and me are the ones stuck in this situation. We’re the ones getting fucked over if this wedding happens. We’re on the same side. So if we go to your parents as a united front, we can do this.” </p><p>“No,” Dean says immediately. “No, no, no fucking way. That’s crazy -”</p><p>“It’ll work,” Louis argues. “Reputation! It’s all about reputation to them! So we’ll hit them right where they’re weakest!”</p><p>“You’re crazy,” Dean blurts, shaking his head. “You’re fucking crazy.” </p><p>“This whole thing is fucking crazy,” Louis exclaims, flailing his arms out dramatically. “But it’s our best shot. No - it’s literally our <em> only </em>shot.” </p><p>“They could take away my inheritance,” Dean says, sounding crazed. “God, they could kick me out of the company - there’s more at stake here than just getting married, Louis!” </p><p>“They can’t kick you out of the company,” Louis says, shaking his head. “You’re too well-liked. You’re too <em> useful. </em>You’re better at the business side of things than either of them - than anyone in the entire company - and they both know it. They won’t take your inheritance either if we play this right. If we make them see the alternative is ten times worse.” </p><p>“There’s no way this could work,” Dean dismisses, standing up again. “You guys need to leave - seriously, this isn’t happening.” </p><p>“The way I see it, Dean, you have two options,” Liam interrupts, speaking up finally. </p><p>Dean casts him a dubious look, brows raising on his head. “Two options,” he repeats. </p><p>“Option one is you two go through with the plan Louis suggested - the one where you guys are in control and have the upper hand,” Liam says almost nonchalantly. “The second is the one where we expose the pictures anyway and you deal with any and all of the consequences while Louis gets a lawyer to represent him on the claim that he was forced into the contract which means he’s not legally obligated to follow through with the terms.” </p><p>Scoffing, Dean rolls his eyes. “But he wasn’t forced into it.”</p><p>“Coerced, fine. Still means the contract is legally <em> not </em> binding,” Liam shrugs. </p><p>“You can’t prove that though,” Dean says, narrowing his eyes. “Or else we wouldn’t be stuck in this situation in the first place. We may have been ‘coerced’ but we signed those papers and we went along with it. There’s no way to prove otherwise. My parents have a crazy good attorney - there’s no way they haven’t prepared for that.” </p><p>Liam shakes his head. “You’re misunderstanding the point,” he says. “It doesn’t matter if he can win or not… Once the news gets out, there’s another major scandal on your hands.” </p><p>“And how would this news get out?” Dean says, irritation coating his drawl. “We signed a fucking NDA and it’d still be binding even if we went to court. An NDA which you clearly broke, so what happens when I tell my parents that, huh?” He glances between the two of them.</p><p>“All they’ll have is your word,” Liam says, unconcerned. “I know nothing about anything.” </p><p>“I realized earlier tonight, actually. We signed an NDA about the pregnancy and wedding and the contract itself,” Louis says slowly. “But there’s nothing in there preventing me from saying I’m going to seek legal action against them. Even if the reason will remain a secret, the husband of their son going against them in court? Definitely scandalous.” </p><p>Dean is quiet for a minute, face grim as he processes the information. “Why can’t we just get married and wait it out?” he asks then, rubbing his temples. </p><p>“Because I don’t want to wait,” Louis says. <em> I can’t. </em>“And believe me when I say that if we have to get married tomorrow, you’re going to rue the day you ever met me.” </p><p>“What does that mean?” Dean says, wrinkling a brow. </p><p>“It means I won’t ever stop,” Louis says, letting some of the anger he’s buried deep ignite inside him. “I’ll make your life a living hell for the next two years. I’ll talk shit about you to our coworkers and yell at you in public. I’ll expose each and every single time you sleep with someone in the next two years. I’ll even fucking move in with you - we’ll get thousands of noise complaints. I will make you help change diapers and clean up after our messy toddler. I’ll think of a million different ways to make your life difficult. I will <em> never </em>stop.” He means every word and for the first time in a long time, he is fearless. </p><p>And Dean, predictably, looks horrified. </p><p>“So, really, your choice,” Liam shrugs after a beat. </p><p>“You guys are psychopaths,” Dean says, disbelief painted over his face. “Literal psychopaths.” </p><p>“You said to me the other day that I was scared of your parents,” Louis says, voice lowering a bit. “And you were right. I was scared of them - <em> was. </em> But you still are. We have a chance here to both get what we want. We have a chance to get out of this and not be trapped in a situation neither of us want to be in for the next two years. We have a chance to make them scared of <em> us.”  </em></p><p>“This is insane.” Dean says, but there’s less conviction in it. A waver in his tone that means Louis is getting through to him. </p><p>“We can do this.” He pours every bit of confidence and yearning into it, heart clenching in his chest. “<em> We </em>can do this.” </p><p>“You don’t know that,” Dean says doubtfully. “God, Louis, we could make things ten times worse.” </p><p>“We won’t,” Louis insists. He watches as Dean bites his lip, the hesitation returning slowly. He cannot have that. “Dean Cartier,” he says firmly. “Don’t be a fucking a coward.” </p><p>Dean scowls at him again. “I am not a coward,” he hisses. “You have no idea what it’s like in my family. You don’t understand what a big deal this is. You think I’m some douchey party boy who never wants to settle down, right? Who never had to work a day in his life?”</p><p>“I know you’ve worked,” Louis shakes his head. “I said that already - you’re one of the most valuable people in the company, and that’s including all the designers.” </p><p>“You still think I’ve had it easy,” he counters. “You think this is a simple decision.” </p><p>“This <em> isn’t </em> a simple decision,” Louis says. “I know that. But I also know you and I don’t want to go through with this. And we won’t have to if we do this.”</p><p>“You do realize there’s many holes in this plan? Like how announcing that the wedding isn’t going to happen the very day of said wedding is also bad for their reputation so they won’t want to do that?” Dean says, frowning. “And when people find out you’re pregnant and the baby is mine? My parents would rather disown me then let people think I abandoned the mother of my baby.” </p><p>“Yes, those are both definite things that will affect their image,” Louis agrees smoothly. “Which is why we have to threaten scandals ten times worse.”</p><p>“Set it on fire,” Liam pipes up helpfully. </p><p>Louis narrows his eyes at Dean, face completely serious. “Set. It. On. Fire.”</p><p>Dean doesn’t reply, lips pursing and head rearing back like Louis is a wild animal. “You could lose your job if this doesn’t work -”</p><p>“Lucky for them, I’m already planning on quitting,” Louis dimisses. He surprises himself in saying it, but really, it’s not that unexpected. He’s learned too much about the Cartiers in the past month - too much he cannot forgive nor uphold. He meant it when he said he wants no connection to this family - this family that willingly screwed him over all to save a reputation that doesn’t matter in the long run. </p><p>All that matters is that you’re happy, Louis thinks. </p><p>Silence echoes after his statement and he waits for Dean to say something. </p><p>“You’ll regret it,” he says after a minute of no reply, sighing. “You’ll regret not listening to me, Dean. I hope you know that.” Then he stands up. </p><p>It only takes Dean a second. </p><p>“Fine,” he blurts. </p><p>Louis lets the word sink into him, registering in his brain. He smiles, slow and pleased, as Liam mutters under his breath something along the lines of <em> thank God </em>. “Finally,” he says.</p><p>“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Dean shakes his head. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever agreed to do.” </p><p>“Somehow I highly doubt that,” Louis says, ignoring Dean’s glare. He claps his hands together. “Let’s go.” </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>Louis was around fifteen when he realized he wanted to go into design. </p><p>Fashion had always been something that’s interested him - always paying attention to fabric and color and the way pieces of an outfit worked together to create something complex and unique. How you can tell so much about a person from the way they dressed. </p><p>He filled sketchbooks with doodles and ideas, some nothing more than a few faint lines scratched out within minutes, and some whole spreads of bold marks and daring dreams. He learned that anything was possible when he had his pencil in one hand and his moleskin in the other. </p><p>The summer after he turned seventeen was the summer he was accepted for a design internship in London, located at the college he’d later apply and attend for his degree. That summer expanded the definition of design and opened a whole new world of opportunities and longing. </p><p>It was not more than five years later when he clicked the email that would change his life again - the notice that he had been chosen for the internship with <em>James Cartier</em> <em>Design</em> in New York City. He had been older then - older and sadder - but in that moment he was just a fifteen year old again, giddy and happy with stars in his eyes and big plans for the future. </p><p>In that moment it didn’t matter that there was a gaping hole in his heart from Harry leaving him. The moment he hit send on his reply confirming he’d be there for his first day in less than a week, was the moment the Cartiers filled that hole in his heart. They gave him a new purpose - something to throw himself into entirely. </p><p>After years of working long hours and getting little credit - or pay - for his labor, Louis can finally acknowledge that while <em> James Cartier </em> has paved over his broken heart, they’ve covered it with tar instead. Thick and inescapable. </p><p>But now, he’s finally getting out.</p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>They meet the Cartiers at their house at six in the morning, emboldened after hours of prepping and coaching each other through what they’re going to say. Their arrival sparks confusion and surprise, neither of their hosts expecting their presence. The first advantage. </p><p>Louis and Dean have spent the past month reluctantly tolerating each other and resisting the urge to bicker at all time (often failing), but that morning - their wedding day morning - they are completely in sync. </p><p>They present a copy of the picture proving Dean as unfaithful and then present their terms and conditions. James and Elizabeth protest as expected, jaws dropping in horror when Louis and Dean start making threats. </p><p>See the thing about the Cartiers - as powerful and cruel and haughty as they may be - they’re still just two human beings who want nothing more than to be successful. Louis actually pities them to a point. They have spent the last twenty years of <em> James Cartier </em>trying to stay on the front of every magazine and the bodies of every fashionable person. James Cartier himself is more a brand than a person and that makes Louis kind of sad. </p><p>It makes him sadder to see how they treat their own son - like he’s just a pawn in the chess game of their own personal goals - someone to manipulate and <em> use </em>as much as they please. It’s not hard to understand, Louis thinks, what Dean meant when he said it hasn’t been easy for him. </p><p>The conversation isn’t easy either. Louis’ voice wobbles more than once and by the time the Cartiers have held up the white flag, Louis is pretty sure he’s sweated through his crisp white silk shirt, hair damp and matted against his forehead. </p><p>“We’ll cause a scene during the ceremony,” they threatened, before making promises for the next two years: Getting into loud and violent fights in public, taking someone new home every night and being papped doing it, getting ridiculously drunk at restaurants and spilling all the family secrets - Dean even said he’d leak his nudes on Twitter tonight. Louis nearly choked and he’s pretty sure Mrs. Cartier almost fainted. </p><p>In the end, it was almost anticlimactic. </p><p>“You don’t have to get married,” Mr. Cartier said, lips curled into a snarl which had remained for the majority of the discussion. </p><p>“And the contract is null,” Louis said back immediately. </p><p>They actually signed it then and there - all parties consenting to the dissolution and it being established as void. He and Dean agree to not press charges or seek legal action and to keep the drama in the past as long as they can still talk about it freely. Louis is finally free to tell the truth about his baby, though the Cartiers insist that in compensation for paying child support they must negotiate some time for Dean to be with his kid even if he’ll never get half-custody. </p><p>Louis, feeling a bit differently about Dean after the events of the past few hours, agrees. </p><p>There’s a lot of back and forth between these decisions, especially when it comes to how they’re going to handle the wedding and the over hundred guests who are anticipating said event. </p><p>It’s actually Dean that comes up with the solution. They’d send out an announcement that the wedding was off thanks to a mutual decision between both of them (making sure to emphasize that they’re still friends, etcetera) and to soften the blow, they’d fund an extended duration of everyone’s stay at the Dorchester. Since the food and everything else has already been prepared and the music set up, they’ll host a dinner party so guests can still get the whole experience. </p><p>The vendors themselves will obviously still be paid, perhaps with a bonus inconvenience fee that Louis is sure won’t leave them too disappointed. </p><p>Cancelling the wedding so last-minute will definitely be talked about by the media, but as Louis and Dean do their best to show the Cartiers - the alternative is much, much worse. </p><p>“One last condition,” Louis said when they were finally close to wrapping up.</p><p>“And what is that?” Mr. Cartier asks, teeth grit in annoyance. </p><p>“I quit,” Louis says, “and I’m starting my own design brand. I won’t ever talk shit about <em> James Cartier, </em> nor will I ever encourage or instigate competition. I want something small - something <em> local. </em>London will be my domain and I’m open to any collaborations in the future as long as they go through Dean.” It comes out firm and steady, leaving little room for argument. </p><p>Three stunned faces stare at him in varying magnitudes. Dean already knew about the quitting which means his shock is a product of Louis’ willingness to interact with him in the future, not the leaving. </p><p>“Fine,” Mr. Cartier says, lips in a thin line. “We’ll have to discuss this more, especially for copyright and creative license, but that’ll have to wait for a later date. We have a wedding to cancel after all.” The bitter tone in his voice has never sounded sweeter.</p><p>“Thank you for your time,” Louis says pleasantly. Then he and Dean stand up and walk out together. </p><p>“Wow,” Dean says as soon as they’re outside. “Wow.”</p><p>“It worked,” Louis breathes, before laughing giddily. “It worked!” </p><p>“I can’t fucking believe it,” Dean says, shaking his head. There’s a smile blossoming on his face too, making him look years younger compared to his usual hard grimace. He turns to Louis. “Thank you.”</p><p>Louis blinks, taken off guard and a bit flustered. “Thank <em> you </em>too. Gosh, you realize the only reason they really went with it is because you’re their son, right?”</p><p>Dean shakes his head. “No, pretty sure the nudes thing was what got them in the end.” They both laugh at that. “And it was your idea. You were right. I was scared. <em> Was. </em>I’ve spent my entire life scared of my own fucking parents - how terrible is that?” </p><p>“Not terrible,” Louis denies. "We're all afraid of people we care about. You care about them, I know you do. And I think they care about you too, even if they're shit at showing it." </p><p>"Maybe," Dean says, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "I’m sorry,” he adds after a bit, guilt flickering in his eyes. The grimace reappears but it’s ashamed this time. “I was a dick to you this entire month. You didn't deserve any of it.” </p><p>“It was a horrible situation,” Louis says gently. “But yeah, you were. An entitled judgemental asshole." He doesn't say it to be spiteful, just to be honest. Even a fake reassurance feels too much like deception after the month they’ve had. Louis is done with all forms of lies. </p><p>“I also get it if you don’t want to work something out with… um, our kid,” Dean continues, scratching his hair awkwardly. “I haven’t really been there for you with that and that was also shitty of me. I just…” He lets out a choked laugh. “I’ve barely even thought about having kids or settling down and then all this happened! I don’t know the first thing about being a parent and I don’t know if I ever even want to… but I still should have been there. I'm so sorry, Louis."  </p><p>“Yeah, you should have,” Louis agrees, nodding. Maybe it's the fact that everything feels surreal - the fact that he's still high off of relief from finally being free of this wretched family that makes it so easy for Louis to look at Dean and sympathize with him, letting his past mistakes be water under the bridge. “I still forgive you. And you don’t have to have any part in raising or taking care of the baby if you don’t want to either. I’m being completely truthful here when I say I don’t need you or your family’s help, nor do I particularly want it. I won’t keep you away from them if that’s what you genuinely want but I don’t want you in their life as a parent figure unless you’re going to be a stable fixture. No half-assing it.” </p><p>“I don’t know,” Dean confesses, looking pained. “I don’t - I don't know what I want.” </p><p>Louis purses his lips, resisting the urge to point out that he never got that luxury. “You have a little more than seven months to figure it out.” </p><p>“Okay,” Dean says, sounding dazed. “I… alright.” </p><p>They stand there awkwardly for a second, stuck between the mutually beneficial alliance and the weeks of irritation and toleration on some sort of rocky middleground. In the end, Dean holds out his hand and Louis takes it. They shake. </p><p>Realizing something, Louis glances at his ring - his gaudy and flashy ring - before carefully sliding it off. It doesn’t weigh too much but it still feels like a massive weight off his shoulders as he hands it to Dean, who takes it with a sheepish smile. Louis dimly muses that he’s finally reached the resolution of the play. The end.</p><p>Well, not quite, he reasons. </p><p>He asks Dean for a ride and he accepts easily, for the first time ever actually taking the time to open the door for Louis when he gets in. Neither of them speak much, opting to listen to the radio. Louis tips his head back and exhales when the opening beats to <em> Go Your Own Way </em>by Fleetwood Mac vibrate in his ears, sinking into his skin and hardening into resolve. </p><p>“Bye, Louis,” Dean says once Louis has gotten out of the car. His face is blank, most likely going over all the other things they’ll have to do in the next couple of days to ensure this doesn’t blow up in their faces. Louis should probably be worrying about that too, but instead he’s a bit distracted. </p><p>“Bye, Dean,” he says belatedly, feeling not an ounce of nostalgia as he closes the door and turns to stare at the familiar front of the Dorchester before him. For once, the sight doesn’t ignite a daunting sense of doom or apprehension inside him. </p><p>Dean drives away after a moment, leaving Louis to steel himself for what he’s about to do.</p><p>There is one more lie he has to end before he can get his happy ending, and he is determined to tell the truth. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>His phone starts ringing incessantly by the time he slumps onto a random chaise in the lounge, dejected. His eyes go blurry staring at the outrageous amount of texts he’s received in the past ten minutes along with dozens of missed calls from Zayn, Bebe, his family, and more. </p><p>So the announcement has been sent out, he figures. </p><p>He knows he should probably do damage control and try replying to at least his mum and the members of the wedding party, but he suddenly feels so exhausted and drained. Weariness settles in his bones, feet and back sore as always and a dull throbbing pain in his temples. </p><p>Most of all, he just feels frustrated. </p><p><em> “Mr. Styles checked out early this morning. He’s no longer staying here,” </em> the lady at the desk had said. Harry checked out early. He’s <em> gone.  </em></p><p>His phone must be off too because he doesn’t respond to the texts Louis sends him, varying from <em> Can you call me? </em> to a desperate <em> i was lying. i do love you. </em> Dozens upon dozens of pleads filled with yearning. He ignores the part of his brain that worries that Harry <em> has </em>seen the texts and chose to ignore them. </p><p>“Louis?” says a voice. </p><p>“Niall?” Louis blurts, looking up to see the man coming towards him. “Hey.” </p><p>“The wedding is off?” Niall says, shaking his phone to insinuate he just saw the email. He looks concerned and confused when he asks, “What happened? Is everything okay?” </p><p>“I… Yeah, it’s fine,” Louis says, shaking his head. He already knows his day is going to be filled with a lot of explanations and reassurances. “It wasn’t - I, um, I’m pregnant.” He didn’t mean to let it out like that but the words slipped out with ease. It feels so simple yet monumental saying those two words now that he’s finally allowed to. He can tell everyone - he can tell the entire world he’s going to be a mother if that’s what he wants. </p><p>Niall on the other hand, is gaping. “Pregnant! Uh, congratulations?” </p><p>“It’s good news,” Louis assures him, clearing his throat. “Uh, I’ve actually known for a while now… It’s the reason we were getting married.”</p><p>Realization dawns over Niall’s face, mouth forming a little 'o.' “I see,” he says. </p><p>“Dean and I felt pressured to go through with it but we both realized this wasn’t going to work so,” he shrugs. “The wedding is off.” </p><p>“Wow,” Niall says. “But I mean - that makes sense. I’m glad you two figured it out.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Louis says quietly. He bites his lip. “Um, have you heard from Harry recently?” </p><p>Niall casts him a sad look. “He’s back at the flat, I think. He told me this morning he had decided not to go to the wedding. I’m the wedding coordinator and making sure everything went smoothly today was my main responsibility, so he felt he wouldn’t be needed.” </p><p>Louis’ heart sinks. Harry wasn’t going to go to the wedding. He remembers the pain on his face. <em> Do you know how hard it is to watch you with him? </em>He takes a deep breath. “Niall, I need a favor,” he says. </p><p>“You want our address so you can go talk to Harry,” Niall guesses, smirking when Louis falters. “I’m more observant than I appear, Mr. Tomlinson.” </p><p>He shakes his head. “What if I’m too late?” </p><p>“From what I can tell, you’ve both been waiting for each other for quite a while now,” Niall says, “and for a situation like that, there’s no such thing as too late.” </p><p>“You think so?” Louis asks shyly. </p><p>“Mate, you haven’t been living and working closely with Harry for the past few weeks,” Niall chuckles. “He’s literally head over heels for you. This wedding was close to killing him.” </p><p>“And the wedding is off,” he says dazedly. </p><p>Niall quirks a brow right as Louis’ phone buzzes with another frantic and confused text. “So, what are you waiting for?” </p><p>He opens his mouth to answer right as a loud, “Louis William Tomlinson!” rings out through the lounge. Freezing, he turns to see his mother standing across the room, hands on her hips and a stern expression on her face. He winces. </p><p>“I think I should probably handle that first,” Louis says to Niall who looks all too amused.  </p><p>“I’ll text you the address,” he promises. He glances at Jay who’s making her way towards them. “Uh, good luck?” he adds, backing away slowly. </p><p>“Thanks,” Louis mumbles, forcing a smile when his mother stops before him. </p><p>The first thing she does is shake her head. “Darling, you better have an explanation for this.” </p><p>Louis sighs, gesturing to the empty spot next to him on the chaise. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p><p>By the time Louis is finally on his way to Harry’s, he’s feeling like an emotional mess. </p><p>He and his family had a long brunch in which he told them how the wedding was a fluke from the beginning, contract and manipulation included. They’re all understandably furious when he’s finished, and Louis has to insist that he doesn’t even <em> want </em> to press charges or seek legal action even if he hadn’t agreed not to. He’s pretty sure Jay is still planning on sending a strongly worded email to one Elizabeth Cartier who she had once been so eager to get to know as part of the family, but he isn’t quite so bothered by that. </p><p>And when the anger finally died down, Louis gestured them all in for a group hug, so grateful that he grew up in a family that loved him, supported him, and was always there for him, even when he couldn't let them be. This whole ordeal has had him thinking a lot about family and what it means. It's not just about blood, it's about love and trust. It's about being there for someone and knowing they'll be there for you in return. Louis looked around at all of them gathered close around him, and realized he could now introduce them to the future next addition to his <em>family, </em>the real reason the wedding was even happening and also his biggest news. His hand over his stomach and eyes flickering to each and every one of his siblings and to Dan and then his lovely mother, he said the words: “I’m pregnant.” </p><p>Those same words were repeated multiple times as he finally talked to Zayn, Gigi, Bebe, and Perrie, Leigh-Anne, Jade, and Jesy - everyone he considers his family. Everyone who's been there for him through the years, giving him love and acceptance, making him feel safe. </p><p>Needless to say, there were lots of tears. </p><p>The wetness in his eyes remain even now as he parks next to the curb, looking up at Harry’s building. There’s the slightest quiver in his fingers when he presses the button for Harry and Niall’s flat. </p><p>Niall said he’d buzz him up without telling Harry, and he does so within seconds. Louis takes a deep breath, and then opens the door. The flat is on the fourth floor and he debates taking the stairs or elevator for longer than necessary, ultimately going right and climbing up the first staircase. He ignores the fact that he’s clearly stalling, focusing on taking step after step up to the first landing, then the second, then the third, and then finally the fourth floor. </p><p>The hallway appears almost endless as he walks, but it still ends too soon as Louis finds himself at Harry and Niall’s door. </p><p>He’s just working up the strength to lift his hand and knock when the door flings open. He stiffens, sighing in relief when he realizes it’s Niall standing at the door. </p><p>“Good, you’re here,” he sighs. He slips out into the hallway with Louis, a jacket slung over his shoulder and his phone in his hand. “He doesn’t know about the wedding being cancelled, by the way. His phone is dead and I’m pretty sure he’s not planning on charging it until after it was supposed to be finished. I’ll be staying with a friend tonight, just so you know.” He winks and Louis blushes. </p><p>“You don’t have to - nothing’s going to happen,” he protests. </p><p>Niall gives him a look. “You forget that I’m Harry’s best friend. I know him and I know how he’s been desperate to have his hands on you again for ages.” </p><p>Louis blushes even harder, flustered. “Uh…” </p><p>“Anyways, good luck,” Niall says, patting him on the shoulder. “He’s in the living room looking sad - you can’t miss him.” </p><p>He walks off without looking back, leaving Louis standing frozen in place at the open door. Nerves rise inside him, lungs constricting as he swallows mouthfuls of air frantically. <em> You can do this, </em>he tells himself. </p><p>But then a faint, “Niall? Everything alright?” sounds from inside the flat and he goes rigid again, panic and fear clawing up through his throat. </p><p><em> Harry, it’s just Harry, </em>he thinks. He takes another deep breath and squeezes his eyes shut for good measure, a thousand different memories of what it felt like to be Harry’s flashing behind his eyes as his courage grows. </p><p>His foot moves first, stepping into the room. Then his hand raises up to close the door behind him. He exhales, inside the flat now. </p><p>Now comes the hard part. </p><p>“Niall? Did you order lunch or something?” Harry calls from a different room. </p><p>Louis shudders, in awe with how fast his heart rate picks up at just the mere sound of Harry’s lovely voice. He takes a second to look around the foyer, admiring the artwork hanging on the walls and the soft rug beneath his feet. </p><p>Then he forces himself to take another step, then another and another until he’s stopping at the archway into a different room. He places a hand on the wall, peering into what is definitely the living room - a large couch facing away from him and an armchair as well as a TV currently on to show a scene from Criminal Minds. </p><p>It reminds Louis of the first time they both found this show, putting on a few episodes after eating takeout in Harry’s bed, exhausted after a long day of classes and homework and other activities. He’s glad Harry still watches it now, wondering if it feels weird for him to not be watching it together like it feels weird for Louis. </p><p>He forces himself to finally pay attention to the head of dark curls he can see sitting on the couch. Harry hasn’t looked away from the screen which means Louis was successful in being quiet. For a moment, he just stands there and breathes. </p><p>“Niall, what’s going on out -” Harry stands up and turns, immediately stilling as he realizes Louis is there. His eyes widen in shock. </p><p>“Hey,” Louis blurts, cheeks flooding with warmth. Harry is just wearing a worn-out gray shirt and sweatpants but he still feels like the awkward one, overdressed in his trousers and silk blouse. </p><p>Harry is gawking at him, but it’s only mere seconds before his face is smoothing over and hardening. He averts his eyes, jaw set. “Uh, shouldn’t you be preparing… or something?” </p><p>Louis swallows thickly. His next words come out shaky. “There’s nothing to prepare for anymore.” </p><p>He watches the furrow form between Harry’s brows, lips curving into a frown as he glances back at Louis. “What?” </p><p>Deep breath. “There’s no more wedding,” he says, voice wavering. </p><p>“Shit,” Harry exclaims, coming around the couch and stopping abruptly less than five feet away. His gaze drops to Louis’ ringless finger, face pale. The space between them sparks with tension, aching to be closed. Guilt flashes over Harry’s face in waves, voice laden with sadness when he finally says, “I’m so sorry, Louis.” </p><p>It takes Louis a second to realize Harry is thinking about the pictures - that he probably thinks Louis is distraught because the love of his life has cheated on him days before their wedding and he was forced to end it. He still thinks that Louis is in love with Dean - he doesn’t realize how utterly and completely in love Louis is with <em>him. </em></p><p>“Don’t be,” he breathes, heart pounding in his chest. “It was mutual.” </p><p>Harry narrows his eyes at that. “Really?”</p><p>Exhaling, Louis decides to just get it over with. “I lied to you.” </p><p>“What?” Harry says, confusion spread across his face. </p><p>“I lied to you last night,” he says, taking a step closer. He’s pretty sure he’s close to trembling, so much raw hope and anticipation coursing through his veins. “About me wanting to marry - about me being in <em> love </em> with Dean.” </p><p>“What does that mean?” Harry asks hoarsely, eyes fixed on Louis intently.</p><p>Louis lets out a breath. “Me and Dean were never together,” he blurts. “In fact, we don’t even particularly like each other. It was all fake from the very beginning.”</p><p>“What?” Harry says, rigid in place. </p><p>He takes another deep breath before launching into an extremely summarized explanation of everything that happened, a speech he perfected on his way here. He tells Harry about the contract and having to lie and how they got Dean’s parents to end it this morning and all the while Harry stares at him blankly. </p><p>It’s slightly concerning actually, how his eyes have gone unfocused and his face is frozen in a neutral expression, not hinting at his thoughts at all. It leaves Louis anxious, making him fidget when he finally finishes explaining with a sigh. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” he ends it with. “I’m sorry I lied to you.” </p><p>Harry doesn’t reply at first, still staring vacantly in his general direction, tension palpable between them. When he finally speaks, his words take Louis off guard. “You need to press charges.”</p><p>Louis blinks, before shaking his head. “I don’t want to,” he admits. “I didn’t even really want to go to court either, it was just a threat. I’m fine with what we worked out.” </p><p>There’s a rigid - angry - set to Harry’s jaw as he purses his lips. “But - Louis, they can’t just get away with doing something like that,” he says sharply. He runs a hand through his hair deliberately, fury tainting the action. “For coercing you into a contract and making you lie to your friends and family for a month while you suffered alone.” </p><p>Blinking rapidly, Louis fumbles for a response. “I know that and I know what they did wasn’t okay - fuck, I definitely know. And I could spend all my time trying to make sure the Cartiers feel the same pain I did, but to me, that’s pointless. I just want to move past this and quite frankly, forget it ever happened. That means letting it go and letting the universe decide their fate. I’m a big believer in karma and that one day they’ll get what they deserve, but that’s not my responsibility to dole out.” He shakes his head. “The Cartiers are terrible and I want nothing to do with them ever again, but they’re also just human beings, Harry. They’re <em> scared </em>human beings who’ve spent their entire lives playing parts and maintaining a certain image to garner the title of ‘successful’ by the media and the general public. If I pressed charges and the news got out, their reputation would be ruined and to them, that’s all that matters. I’m not a life-ruiner - even if they tried to ruin mine. That’s not me.” </p><p>He takes another deep breath, a flush blooming across his cheeks. He hadn’t meant to ramble on but for some reason, he felt the need to make Harry understand - to make him <em> approve. </em>He’s undeniably and entirely aware of Harry in every way - aware of his gaze, his tensed posture, the twitch of his lips as he exhales, and the movement of his fingers as he runs another hand through his hair absently. </p><p>All of his attention is concentrated on Harry and yet he still jumps when he hears his voice. </p><p>“You’re a better person than I am,” Harry says, shaking his head. “You always have been.” </p><p>Louis bites his lip, hard. “M’not,” he denies, shaking his head. “I genuinely believe all their lies and crimes will come back to haunt them and when that happens, I’ll even be pleased.” </p><p>They both fall silent at that. </p><p>“So you’re not getting married,” Harry says eventually, a bit of wonder in his tone. “And you lied to me about loving Dean. Did I get that right?” </p><p>He knows what Harry’s searching for. “Not fully,” he murmurs. “I lied about something else last night. Something important.” </p><p>“What was it?” Harry breathes, stare slow and heavy as it wanders over Louis’ face, lingering at his eyes and mouth and neck. Louis sees the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows, the strain in the bow of his lips as he struggles between a grimace and something unreadable. </p><p>“Something about you and me,” Louis says after a moment, heart thundering so loud he can hear it in his ears. He’s terribly aware of every inch of his body, fighting the urge to lick his lips, mess with his fringe, and adjust his shirt. </p><p>“What sort of something?” Harry asks lightly. </p><p>He realizes then that Harry wants him to say it - no, he <em> needs </em>him to say it. "Something really important. Something that hasn't changed in about six years," he murmurs. With one final breath, he channels all of his hope and yearning and says it. “I’m in love with you, Harry Styles.”</p><p>Harry’s eyes close and he exhales, head tipped back as if he’s been listening to the most beautiful symphony. “Say it again,” he says roughly. </p><p>“I’m in love with you,” he repeats, taking a careful step forward. “I never stopped. Don’t think I ever will. I <em> want </em> you. You’ve ruined me as much as I’ve ruined you.” </p><p>The expression on Harry’s face can only be described as pure bliss. “This is… this feels like a dream,” he says faintly, eyes still shut. “Louis, please tell me this isn’t a dream.” </p><p>Louis doesn’t respond, instead choosing to break the distance between them. He lifts his hand slowly before placing it on Harry’s shoulder. Harry jerks at the touch, exhaling as his eyes open. They’re wide and glassy as he looks down at Louis with so much emotion in his eyes, so much <em> relief.  </em></p><p>“That is the complete and utter truth,” Louis whispers. </p><p>Harry kisses him. </p><p>He sucks in a breath and then leans down to slot their lips together, swallowing Louis’ little gasp of surprise. He pulls back just as fast, eyes wide but filled with pure joy and relief. “Sorry, I - I’m just so -”</p><p><em> Happy </em>gets caught between their mouths as Louis lunges up on his toes to kiss him again, arms looping around Harry’s neck to tug him even closer. </p><p>A big hand comes up to frame his face, encompassing the line of his jaw all the way to his temple. The thumb is achingly gentle as it rubs over his wet cheekbone, other fingers curling into his hair carefully. Then an arm winds around his waist and pulls him into Harry’s chest tightly, stealing the air from his lungs. </p><p>Louis lets out a small startled sound, leaning up into the touch and pressing closer, closer, closer. He inhales the smell of his cologne, breathing him in through wisps of tobacco and vanilla. </p><p>“You had me fooled,” Harry murmurs against his lips, sounding choked up. “You - you were in love with him and still I fell. I’m always a fool when it comes to you.” </p><p>He pulls back a bit, noses bumping as he nuzzles into Harry’s hand. “You’re not a fool,” he says shakily. He curls a hand into the fabric of Harry’s shirt and holds on tightly, never wanting to let go. “I’m sorry I let you think I didn’t feel the same. I’m sorry about everything.” </p><p>“Don’t apologize for those bastards, especially when you didn’t have a choice,” Harry says roughly, dipping down to drag his lips up the column of Louis’ throat, making him shiver. “You smell like lavender.” </p><p>“Perfume,” Louis breathes, eyes fluttering shut in contentment as Harry takes his time learning him all over again. </p><p>“I bought lavender candles, you know. Lots of them,” Harry murmurs, breath fanning out across Louis’ face, "because they make me think of you.” </p><p>His lips trace the line of Louis’ jaw, ghosting over the arch of his cheeks and brushing over the slope of his nose. Harry leaves featherlight kisses on his eyelids and then his forehead and temples, before trailing back to his lips again. </p><p>“Baby,” he mumbles into Louis’ mouth. </p><p>Louis whimpers, grip tightening around Harry’s neck as Harry slowly walks him backwards. His shoulders bump into the wall and then Harry is caging him in, solid and real and wanting. </p><p>His lips part automatically, letting Harry soothe the aching in his lungs with clever sweeps of his tongue. He licks into Louis’ mouth and fills him with warmth, spreading across his face in a dusting of flushed pink and burning in his blood through his body. </p><p>It feels like coming home. Like safety and comfort and everything he needs, wants, desires. </p><p>He’s helpless but to pull Harry closer, let him fit into the gaps that have felt empty for so long, let him breathe love into his mouth and into his soul. A hand at the back of his nape, cradling his head so gently. Fingers digging into his hip bone and leaving imprints. Lips searing into his. Every point of contact burns beautifully and Louis feels the farthest from lonely that he’s felt in a long time. </p><p>“You’re everything, do you know that?” Harry says, taking a pause from rendering Louis into a pile of goo in favor of mouthing at his pulse. He thumbs at it right after, feeling Louis’ heartbeat flutter against the pad of his finger. “You are my entire heart, Louis.”</p><p>“And you’re mine,” Louis says dazedly, blinking sluggishly and trying to convey his pleading through his gaze. </p><p>Harry gets it instantly. He’s always been able to read Louis like an open book, immediately bracing him by the hips and hitching him up. </p><p>Louis wraps his legs around Harry’s waist, letting out a sigh of satisfaction right as Harry sucks on his bottom lip. They kiss messily and forcefully, both like they’re trying to press years of pent up emotions and feelings into each other’s mouths with nothing but their tongues and teeth. </p><p>It’s been years since he’s been kissed like this - years since he’s felt like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest, swelling with affection and giddiness and pure happiness. His body sings in pleasure as Harry sucks a mark at the base of his throat, big and obvious. </p><p>Somethings never change, Louis muses, craning his head to the side to give Harry more room as he starts working on another one. </p><p>Eventually it becomes all too apparent that it’s been ages since he’s had sex and a long time since he’s been satisfied in the way he can only get from feeling something inside him. Not to mention he’s close to finished with his first trimester and he’s suddenly feeling inescapably horny all the time. </p><p>He lets out a small whine, high and desperate, when Harry bites down at the sensitive spot below his ear. It’s like he remembers every inch of Louis’ body, knowing how to drive him crazy and render him into a desperate mess. Harry’s supporting his entire weight right now, keeping him from sagging to the floor as he pretty much melts in his arms. </p><p>And there’s a familiar hardness prodding at his thigh and that makes him remember that the most satisfying thing that’s been inside him is right in front of him. </p><p>“Bedroom?” he gasps, feeling like all of his senses have been completely overwhelmed by <em> HarryHarryHarry. </em>He didn’t come here to get laid - hadn’t even considered it in the outcomes of their conversation (though apparently Niall had) - but now all he can focus on is the heat bleeding through fabric into his skin wherever Harry touches him. </p><p>“Are you sure?” Harry breathes, blinking rapidly like even a second without staring at Louis is too much to go. </p><p>“Yes,” Louis says instantly. “But only if you want. We don’t have to do anything.”</p><p>“Of course I want to,” Harry says raggedly. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this day? I’m going to take such good care of you, beloved.”</p><p>“Beloved?” Louis breathes, insides turning aflame. </p><p>Harry presses a kiss to his shoulder, then his neck, his cheek. Lips soft, touch lingering, so achingly tender. “Dearly loved,” he says softly. “You are my beloved.” </p><p>He is painstakingly careful as he steps back from the wall, holding Louis as if he’s the most precious treasure in the world. His lips don’t leave Louis’ skin even as he staggers towards the hallway, heading for a bedroom Louis has never known. </p><p>Finding the light switch while otherwise occupied proves to be more difficult than either of them expected so Harry sets him down for a moment. </p><p>Louis nearly stumbles, legs weak and body slack from being kissed so thoroughly. It’s so strange, he thinks, feeling so needy again. But that’s what it is - a <em> need. </em>A deep ache coiling in his stomach that can only be quelled with sweet release. </p><p>The light flicks on, illuminating the room. Louis looks around curiously, taking in every detail and cataloguing in his head under the Harry section. The beautiful prints of photographs that Louis knows he took himself. The pile of books on the nightstand, the top one displaying a pink bookmark sticking out about halfway through. The fern leaf ring bowl on the dresser. The pictures of Harry and his family and friends. The Packers hoodie slung over the desk chair. The familiar black binder laying on the middle of the desk. </p><p>He scans the entire room and then immediately stops short, breath catching as he spots it. “Is that..?” he asks, voice trailing off because he knows the answer. </p><p>It's a flower crown. Almost an exact replica of the one Liam and Bebe made him for the suit fitting. It’s sitting on the bookshelf on the window seat innocently, a stunning wreath of daffodils and lavender. </p><p>“How,” he breathes after a moment, eyes welling with tears again. </p><p>“I got Vanessa to make one for me - er, for you,” Harry admits sheepishly, scratching his ear. “You just looked so pretty. I wanted to give it to you before the wedding, but that was before I decided not to go.”</p><p>“Right, you weren’t going to show up,” Louis says faintly. </p><p>Harry grimaces. “How could I? Watch you walk down the aisle, looking so beautiful, but looking at someone that isn’t me? I couldn’t do it.” He shakes his head, striding toward him and cradling his face like he needs to remind himself that Louis is <em> here </em> and <em> his.  </em></p><p>“Put it on me,” Louis whispers after a moment, holding onto Harry’s biceps and squeezing lightly. </p><p>They move to it together. Harry picks it up with careful hands, pausing a second before lifting it to Louis’ head. He sets it down and adjusts it until it’s sitting right, eyes reverent as they rake down Louis’ body. </p><p>Louis feels just as beautiful as last time, standing here in his wrinkled clothes and a crown of flowers on his head. He is stunning and gorgeous and he feels it. The way Harry is looking at him confirms that he agrees. </p><p>Harry leans closer, breath fanning out on the crook of Louis’ neck followed by lips brushing over his pulse until he shivers. “Don’t take it off,” he whispers, pressing a lingering kiss to the spot. </p><p>He shivers again. </p><p>Their lips meet again, slower and less rushed this time. Harry walks him back until the backs of his calves bump into the bed frame. He guides Louis back until he’s laying on the mattress, Harry climbing over him and pressing him into the sheets a moment later. </p><p>Louis curls his hands into the fabric of Harry’s shirt, tugging lightly until Harry gets the hint and yanks it up and off, sweats following after. He sucks in a breath, eyes trailing down inches of exposed skin, admiring the vivid lines of Harry’s tattoos and the tautness of his abdomen muscles. Unable to help himself, he reaches out and traces the right fern leaf, eliciting a hitch in Harry’s breathing. His gaze wanders lower, taking in strong thighs and the distinct bulge in his boxers. </p><p>“Your turn,” Harry breathes after letting Louis drink his fill, sliding a hand under the fabric of Louis' shirt. His palm is big and warm against his skin, spanning the expanse of his stomach and making him exhale, at ease. Harry takes him time petting over his sides, relearning the shape of his body before carefully pulling his shirt off. </p><p>Any insecurities and apprehension vanishes the moment he feels the weight of Harry’s eyes on him, reverent and admiring. Louis shivers under the heat of it, watching the green of Harry’s eyes grow darker the longer he stares, cataloguing every new curve and angle of his body and memorizing it. </p><p>Then Harry’s leaning in, lips brushing over the shell of his ear. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, hands skating up and down Louis’ sides before settling at the dip of his waist. </p><p>“You’re beautiful,” Louis counters, flushing all the way down to his neck. He isn’t scared or nervous, but he does feel shy. He knows Harry and Harry knows him - it almost makes the moment feel even more intense and fragile.</p><p>Harry noses down his throat, inhaling deeply and letting out a pained sound. “Do you know how much I’ve been dying to touch you?” he murmurs, sucking a mark onto Louis’ collarbone before soothing the sting with a kiss. He nuzzles into Louis' throat, making him shudder. “To have you like this again. In my arms, all shy and pliant.” </p><p>He mouths down Louis’ chest and reaches his stomach, seeming to falter at the now distinct pudge. Louis draws in an overwhelmed breath, exhaling when Harry immediately nuzzles into his tummy, so gentle and tender. It makes his heart swell with warmth, tears brimming in his eyes with how happy he is. </p><p>This is what he’s wanted when he’s dreamed about having kids - someone to be there with him, just as excited and awed as him, if not more. Harry looks like he doesn’t ever want to move, the urgency and fervor of the past fading away into a content silence as he drags his lips over Louis’ stomach. “Hello, little flower,” he mumbles into Louis’ belly button, a gentle greeting. “My name is Harry. Nice to meet you.” </p><p>Louis sighs softly when Harry returns to seal their lips together again, placing a gentle hand flat against Louis’ stomach like he needs to be touching it at all times.</p><p>“I know you two are a package deal and I want you to know I’ll love your baby like my own,” he pulls back to say and Louis almost starts crying again, winding his arms around Harry’s neck and tugging him closer. "Everything's moving so fast, but I promise you, Louis, I'll be right by your side from now on. Whatever and whenever you need. No more leaving, no more being an idiot. You and this baby are my priority, I promise you." Louis surges up to kiss him quickly, overwhelmed. </p><p>He knows, is the thing. He knows Harry would love his baby like his own and he knows he’d be the best father. He can’t believe it - can’t believe Harry is here and telling Louis he loves him and worshipping his body and promising to love his child the way they deserve and to be there.</p><p>“Don’t cry, my love,” Harry murmurs, feeling the wetness on Louis’ cheeks. He pulls back and smiles at him, one large hand framing the side of Louis’ face. “Sweet creature,” he whispers, before kissing him again. </p><p>It’s already so much and Louis can’t get enough - the feeling of Harry on top of him as their tongues slide together, the way his heart is so full it’s like it could burst right out of his chest, how content he feels here on this bed on what was supposed to be his wedding day. </p><p>Harry undresses him fully, gentle fingers tugging fabric down and off his legs until he's fully bare, pressing his lips to Louis’ inner thighs, calves, and ankles as he goes, a path of tender touches that Louis can feel down to his bones. </p><p>It’s then Louis realizes that his anklet is on. He’s been wearing it since the rehearsal as some sort of good luck charm. He expects Harry to take it off, but he he just winds a finger around the golden chain and studies it carefully. </p><p>“It was my something borrowed,” Louis offers, blushing when Harry glances back up at him. He bites his lip. “You know that pin you gave me? The lavender one you found at a shop?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Harry breathes, blinking slowly. </p><p>“It was going to be my something old,” Louis confesses. “So I could have something of you to carry with me down the aisle when I couldn’t have you waiting for me at the end of it.” </p><p>Harry seems to stutter at that, wasting no more time in returning to his rightful place between Louis’ spread legs and cupping his face again, thumbs pressing into his hair. “Next time you won’t need it,” he says roughly. </p><p>In his dazed state it takes Louis a second to realize that Harry means that next time he walks down the aisle, he <em>will</em> be waiting at the altar. The next time he walks down the aisle, it'll be for real. The thought takes his breath away. “Harry, please,” he mumbles when Harry gets distracted nosing into his neck again. </p><p>“Want it like this, baby?” he asks, tilting Louis’ head back for better access. “Or on your side?” </p><p>“Wanna see you,” Louis whispers, squirming with impatience as Harry inhales against his neck. <em> “Harry.</em> Hurry, please.”</p><p>“You just smell so sweet,” Harry says, as if pained by it, before pecking him on the lips in apology. He gets up, straining to reach the nightstand without moving too far from Louis - like the concept isn’t even an option in his mind. Somehow, he manages to grab a bottle of lube and a condom. </p><p>Louis dimly wonders how many people Harry has had laid out on this bed in the past few years before deciding it doesn’t matter. He’ll be the only one from now on. </p><p>Harry uncaps the bottle and slicks up his fingers before throwing it off the side of the bed unceremoniously, leaning back down over Louis to connect their lips again. </p><p>He mewls at the first intrusion - the pad of Harry’s pointer finger prodding at his rim experimentally. It inches in slowly and Louis’ mouth goes slack at the feeling, letting Harry suck on his tongue and press him into the bed more firmly. </p><p>A hand gently pries at Louis’ which he's using to clutch the sheets desperately, intertwining their fingers and squeezing reassuringly as Harry slides a second finger in beside the first. He’s going painstakingly slow and Louis isn’t sure if it’s out of concern and care or because he wants to take his time. He soaks it all up anyway, basking in the attention Harry seems all too happy to give him. </p><p><em> “Oh,” </em> Louis breathes when Harry’s fingers brush over that one spot, making his toes curl and sending a tremor through his body. He whimpers when Harry immediately eases a third finger in. Harry swallows the sound, squeezing his hand again. </p><p>After a minute, Louis begins pushing back into his fingers, rocking forward and whining a bit as Harry continues to press at his prostate mercilessly. Louis isn't surprised that even after all these years, he remembers exactly how to make Louis fall apart. His skin is flushed pink, glistening with a layer of sweat as he gets more and more worked up. “Harry,” he pleads. </p><p>“Shh, baby, we have all the time in the world,” Harry tells him, ducking down to mouth at his belly button again.</p><p>Squeezing Harry’s hand tight, Louis gasps out as Harry inches a fourth finger in, whining at the increased pressure. Everything is heightened, ten times more intense, and it feels so right. It feels so right to be filled up like this, filled up by these particular fingers with this - <em>his -</em> particular person solid and steady above him. </p><p>Louis sucks in a breath, letting out a sound of strangled protest as Harry slides his fingers out, leaving him empty and desperate as he writhes against the sheets, inhaling gulps of air as his heart thunders in his ears. </p><p>Harry hushes him, kissing his stomach and wrapping his hand around Louis' thigh, warmth bleeding from skin to skin. He squeezes in reassurance as he reaches for the condom and finally shoves his boxers down. His cock slaps up to his flat stomach, hard and leaking. </p><p>The room suddenly seems ten times hotter as Louis reaches out to grip his length with his free hand. This is a sight he hasn't seen in a good three years and he savors it. The contrast between his slim fingers and Harry’s thick and long length has him short-circuiting, lips parting in want as Harry grunts, bucking up into his loose fist. "Louis," he rasps, and there's so much emotion in his voice. It makes Louis feel dizzy, senses going fuzzy. </p><p>He snaps out of it a second later, all too conscious of his own leaking prick as he puts a hand over Harry’s, stopping him from sliding the condom on. They exchange a heavy look and Harry nods, understanding. Louis watches as he discards the wrapper and continues to slick his bare cock up. He knows if he had told him to, Harry would have worn it no hesitation, but Louis doesn’t want any barriers between them - not now, not ever again. </p><p>Harry returns the flower crown on his head and he smiles in surprise, not realizing it had ever been knocked off. </p><p>“I, Harry Styles,” Harry murmurs, voice ragged with emotion, with <em>love.</em></p><p>His brows draw together in confusion, before it hits him and his breath hitches in realization. </p><p>“Take you, Louis Tomlinson,” Harry says softly, grasping Louis’ hand in his own again. He squeezes gently, eyes dark and intense as he holds Louis’ gaze with his. “To be mine.” </p><p>It’s now obvious what Harry is doing and it makes Louis want to weep, blinking back more tears as Harry lines up at his entrance.</p><p>“To have and to hold from this day forward,” he continues, voice wavering as the blunt head of his cock catches on Louis’ rim, tip sliding in and making them both tense, pure want and <em>need</em> filling Louis' body. “For better or for worse.” </p><p>The love singing through Louis’ body right now is the kind of feeling they write ballads about - the kind of feeling people would kill or die just to experience even once. He can feel it vibrating in every single cell, bleeding from his heart into his arteries and veins and overtaking his mind and soul. </p><p>“For richer or for poorer,” Harry murmurs, leaning down to press his lips to the corner of Louis’ mouth gently as he carefully eases in. “In sickness and in health.” </p><p><em> “Fuck, </em> Harry,” Louis breathes, wrapping his legs around Harry’s waist to keep them from trembling and throwing his free arm around his shoulders to pull him closer, closer, closer. </p><p>Harry feels impossibly big inside him, inching in bit by bit as Louis struggles to take it all in - a struggle he’s been craving for ages. Because it’s been forever since he’s felt like this, forever since he’s felt this much at one time, forever since he felt this content. </p><p>“Till death do us part,” Harry whispers, stuttering as he bottoms out, hips nestled against Louis’ arse. He brings their linked hands to his mouth, pressing a lingering kiss to Louis’ knuckles before meeting his eyes. His irises gleam dark green with conviction and steadfast resolve, “I promise to love and cherish you.” </p><p>He moves. </p><p>Louis doesn’t even get a chance to recover from Harry’s lovely words, nor to reciprocate said lovely words before Harry is pulling out and pressing back into him, the slow drag of his hips making warmth bloom near his navel, spreading like a wildfire until he’s burning and Harry is the only one who can quench the flame. </p><p>His head tips back in euphoria, lips parting as sounds fall from his lips like the sweetest nectar. Harry brings their hands up above his head, pressing him down against the mattress as he builds a steady rhythm, hips gliding forward like a well-practiced dance. </p><p>Time seems to slow as the coil of heat in Louis’ stomach grows bigger and bigger, blossoming up into his throat as flower petals fall from his crown and stick to his wet cheeks. An orchestra of heartbeats and strained breaths builds to its crescendo as Louis shouts, going rigid as he spills between them.</p><p>Harry follows soon after, body taut and shoulders caving in as he empties out into Louis with a soft sigh. </p><p>For a minute, they just breathe each other in, savor each other's presence and soak in the love and devotion thick in the air. <em>This </em>is what Louis has been dreaming about his whole life. This feeling.</p><p>He shivers as a few flower petals fall onto his shoulders and chest and then tilts his head, eyes fluttering shut when Harry rests his forehead on his. </p><p>“Dearly beloved,” he murmurs, lips curving up into a slow and soft smile, like a sun rising on after the longest and darkest night.</p><p>Louis wants to wake up to this smile for the rest of his life. “Dearly beloved,” he echoes after a beat. Then he lifts his hand and pokes Harry’s dimple, unable to help himself. </p><p>Harry smiles at him softly, before grabbing Louis’ hand and pressing his mouth to the middle of his palm. He lets go right after, cupping Louis’ chin and kissing him softly on the lips before pulling back and getting off the bed. “Gonna get a rag, okay?”</p><p>Missing the words, Louis runs his eyes over Harry’s body, tracing long legs and broad shoulders. His cock hangs proudly between his legs, still big even when soft. “Hm?” </p><p>And though he looks smug, there’s an underlying happiness in Harry’s resulting grin, a pep in his step as he saunters to the bathroom. </p><p>Gingerly turning onto his side, Louis marvels at the ache that’s already developed between his legs, a reminder of what's happened. He knows he's going to feel it tomorrow and the thought has him pleased. And even more pleasing, he's going to have <em>Harry</em> tomorrow. For the first time in years, Louis won't be waking up alone. </p><p>It's the best feeling, he muses, sleeping next to someone who loves you. Louis hopes he'll be experiencing it for a long, long time. </p><p>Harry returns quickly, then proceeds to wipe him down diligently and kiss him at the same time. Louis savors every press of his lips and fingers in his hair, pouting when Harry moves to get up again until he surrenders and just drops the dirty rag on the floor. “I’ll get it later,” he decides, settling back between his legs again right where he belongs. </p><p>“We have all the time in the world,” Louis whispers, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck and tugging him down impatiently. </p><p>Humming his agreement, Harry wraps an arm around his waist before rolling them over so Louis is laying on his chest, hearing Harry's heart beat steadily against his ear. His flower crown gets jostled again, sliding precariously on his head until Harry fixes it.</p><p>Well, he fixes it for a moment before tipping it askew again, smiling when Louis lifts his head and huffs at him. </p><p>Pretending to be annoyed lasts about ten seconds before Harry is curling a hand around the nape of his neck, guiding him down and finding his lips, making a <em>home.  </em></p><p>Louis decides then and there that this - kissing and touching and flowers and <em> Harry </em> with his hand on the back of his neck and the other flattened against his stomach as if making sure the most precious flower of them all is alright - is something he’d wait an eternity for. </p><p>Lucky for him, they’re both <em>far</em> too tired of waiting. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Just the epilogue left!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“This old world that we’re livin’ in<br/>Is might hard to beat.<br/>You get a thorn with every Rose<br/>But – ain’t the roses sweet?”</p><p>- FRANK STANTON </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>❀ ❀ ❀</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em><b>~ June 8th; Three Years Later ~</b> </em>
</p><p>“One more minute,” Liam says, glancing at Louis to make sure he heard. He and Zayn are standing by the doors, ready to walk out since the groomsmen and women have begun their walk down the aisle. </p><p>Louis nods, immediately turning to Zayn who gives him an exasperated look. </p><p>“You look perfect, Lou,” he says for the dozenth time. </p><p>“Why do I feel nervous? I shouldn’t be nervous. It’s <em> Harry,” </em>he says anxiously, hands clenching and unclenching as he shifts from foot to foot. </p><p>“Everyone’s nervous on their wedding day,” Liam tells him soothingly. He looks pretty handsome in the suit Louis designed for him and so does Zayn, dressed in a matching one. </p><p>“And you would know,” Louis says dryly, ignoring Liam’s eye roll. He turns to where his mum is entertaining the little ones. “Are the kiddos ready?” </p><p>Like his fake-wedding, Ernest will be walking the aisle after Zayn and Liam as the ring bearer. At six years old, he’s now able to actually carry out the job with actual rings and not decoys which was the backup option. </p><p>Doris is right beside him with a small impatient pout on her face. She’s finally mastered the art of petal-throwing, however, she won't be the only flower girl for this wedding. </p><p>“Mummy,” his darling girl whines, making grabby hands towards him when he walks over. </p><p>“Your mum is busy, lovely,” Jay coos at her, adjusting the straps of her lavender dress as she squirms. “And you are too! Show me your walk again!”</p><p>Louis grins as Nora’s face hardens into cute determination, picking up a handful of lavender and yellow petals before flinging them out in a wide movement. </p><p>“Beautiful, darling,” he praises, looking at her fondly. She looks precious in her dress and Mary Janes, a matching wreath of flowers to the one on Louis’ head nestled in her light brown hair. </p><p>Nora Isabelle Tomlinson-Styles. Born November 30th, and - as everyone likes to point out to him - almost the spitting-image of her mother. Everything from her small button nose to bright blue eyes bears a heavy likeness to himself. He can remember how relieved Harry was when it became evident there was little of Dean in her appearance. Obviously, he’d love her endlessly no matter what she looked like, but Louis knows it’s a bit easier this way. </p><p>Dean himself is actually sitting outside with his date (Louis is sure it’s no one steady but he’s still got hope). Harry begrudgingly agreed to invite him after he convinced him that it was the nice thing to do. The Cartiers, on the other hand, aren’t present and definitely weren’t invited. It was something they agreed on without hesitation. Letting them see his daughter once a year over the holidays is the extent of his interaction with them and he’d like to keep it that way. </p><p>And Dean, while not actively present in Nora’s life, makes it a point to spend the day with her every couple of months. He’s grown and matured a lot over the past few years and while they’re still not exactly and will probably never be friends, they’re definitely on friendlier terms. </p><p>The cue for Zayn and Liam to walk out comes from their wedding coordinator, Nancy. While Harry had taken it upon himself to plan their wedding (Louis at his side every step of the way), even he had to admit they’d need someone else to make sure everything ran smoothly. Running the event while also being the groom is just a bit too ambitious, even for Harry's standards. </p><p>Zayn and Liam shoot him a last encouraging look before exiting the small tent they set up and into the gardens where the ceremony is taking place.<em> An outdoor wedding, </em> he remembers telling Harry. <em> Let’s get married among the flowers.  </em></p><p>That was nearly nine months ago. Compared to his first experience preparing for a wedding, the more than half a year they had to plan their actual big day felt like a breeze. Louis and Harry went through the entire process hand in hand - everything from the food to the music to the seating arrangements were decided by them, together. And now Louis finally has his dream wedding. </p><p>He moves toward the tent flap and peeks out at the altar, heart swelling when he sees Harry standing with his hands clasped behind his back, a smile on his face as Zayn and Liam take their spots. He looks gorgeous in his suit, material hugging his arms and long legs as he murmurs something quietly to Gemma, his best woman. Niall, Mitch, Sarah, Adam, and Charlotte - his other groomsmen and women - are to the left, all looking beautiful and proud.</p><p>However, Louis only has eyes for his beloved. On this blessed day and - really - every day, he's pretty sure he's never seen anyone more beautiful and handsome than his husband-to-be. Flowers are embroidered on the lapels of his suit and creeping up the legs of his slacks. It matches the sprig of lavender in his jacket pocket and the flowers weaved in the crown atop his head, a wreath that's more Greek than floral, bringing out the green of his eyes. </p><p>His dream groom, another thing he finally has. </p><p>Since he’s there, he takes the opportunity to scan the rows, a smile unfurling on his lips like petals as he takes in the sight of all their closest friends and family. Blooms of purple, yellow, pink, and more surround the set-up and Louis once again revels in the knowledge that he’ll be getting married in a garden. A garden filled with flowers, yes, but also filled with the most important people in both of their lives: a garden of love.</p><p>His eyes eventually wander back to Harry, back to his <em> home. </em>Once again, he sends a silent thank you to the universe for bringing Harry back to him - to bringing them back to each other. There’s no one else he’d rather have as his partner and husband. No one else he’d rather have a family with and no one else he’d rather spend the rest of his life with. </p><p>After a long consideration, Louis had decided he’d be hyphenating his last name. The world will still know him as Louis Tomlinson of Tomlinson Design but he wants to match his daughter in surname and <em>choose </em>to become Louis Tomlinson-Styles. He is Louis Tomlinson until the day he dies but today he cements he's planting a new garden - one that for now is him, Harry, and their daughter. But perhaps someday, that garden will grow. And even though Harry has decided to stay a Styles, they both know that he's a Tomlinson in the way that counts.</p><p>He’s been so patient about this wedding, with planning it and for marriage itself. After they found each other again, they both knew they’d eventually end up here, at the altar with vows memorized and stars in their eyes, but neither of them knew when. </p><p>Louis had been reluctant to think about marriage after that cursed month and life had been busy these past three years with Nora’s birth and establishment of his very own design brand (with Liam, Bebe, and Steve who defected from the Cartiers once he had - family sticks together after all). Harry has been so patient and loving through it all, and though he was the one to get down on one knee back in September, he had done it because Louis was finally ready. And Louis knows he would have waited forever if he hadn’t been. </p><p>Ernest walks next, small head held high as he carries the pillow. The guests coo at his coiffed hair and rosy cheeks and Louis smiles when he reaches the altar and Harry reaches out to give him a high-five, making him beam proudly. </p><p>“Darling, you’re next,” he says to Nora who’s wobbling over to him. She’s just over two and a half years and walking is still a bit difficult, but Louis knows she can do this. </p><p>“Kiss?” she asks, pouting. </p><p>He obliges, leaning down to press a kiss to her soft forehead, smoothing down her hair. “Daddy’ll give you a kiss too when you reach him,” he whispers, deciding he ought to give her some sort of an incentive. </p><p>Her brows furrow adorably as she nods, tightening the grip on her little basket in determination as Jay directs her and Doris to the tent flap. </p><p>“Off you go,” she tells them when Nancy signals. </p><p>Doris goes on confidently but Nora is still looking at Louis expectantly. </p><p>“Go, sweetheart!” he urges, smiling when her eyes widen in realization. She stumbles after Doris with a small gasp and Jay and him share a laugh. </p><p>Unable to help himself, he takes a peek again. Doris is a vision in her dress, red curls bouncing as she skips her way down the aisle flinging petals like a pro. Nora is a bit more shy, lagging behind a few steps and blushing as the guests all cheer her on. But she’s a Tomlinson-Styles so she keeps going, slowly gaining confidence. </p><p>His grin is uncontrollable when he sees how Harry positively lights up at the sight of his daughter, mouthing, “Nora-belle,” as she hurries over to him. That along with “flower,” and, “Blue-belle,” have become his nicknames for her and it never fails to warm Louis’ heart. </p><p>And like Louis expected, he ducks down and kisses Nora on the top of her head when she arrives at the altar. Perrie scoops her up, booping her on the nose and no doubt gushing about how well she did with a wide smile. Content that his daughter is in good hands, he finally turns to his mother. </p><p>She looks absolutely beautiful in her dress, smile wide as she hands Louis his bouquet. “I’m so proud of you, baby,” she says. “And so <em> happy. </em> I know Harry’s jaw is going to drop when he sees you.” </p><p>Louis blushes, insides flooding with warmth. The suit he had designed three years ago for his fake wedding had been beautiful but he’s pretty sure he’s out-done himself with the new and improved version. Harry is definitely going to lose it when he sees him in it (and out of it, he thinks, remembering what lays hidden beneath in pale lavender lace), though in all honesty he’d still lose it if Louis came out dressed in a sack. “Thanks, Mum,” he says, voice wavering. <em> Not time for crying yet, </em>he scolds himself. </p><p>Jay looks a little wet-eyed too, a look of love and pride on her face. “I love you so much, my darling. This is the ending you deserve.” </p><p>“I love you too,” he murmurs, glancing back down at his bouquet before he can tear up. They smile softly at each other for a moment before she holds out her arm and Louis takes hold of it, both of them shuffling to the tent. </p><p>“Whenever you’re ready,” Nancy says, giving him a thumbs up. </p><p>Just like that, all his nerves disappear. He’s going to walk down this aisle to the love of his life - his person, the best father and partner and friend, the only person who can make him feel like there’s no such thing as waiting or unhappy endings - and truly, how could he be nervous about that? </p><p>“I’m ready,” he says. Steady as flowers, steady as lavender, steady as a Tomlinson - or, a Tomlinson-Styles, he supposes. </p><p>The curtains part. The audience watches in anticipation. </p><p>Louis steps forward and into the first act. </p><p>❀ ❀ ❀</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Is this a good time to say that I'm not finished with this universe?</p><p>Title is from I Slept With Someone in Fall Out Boy and All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me by Fall Out Boy (literally has no relation to the story except for those two lines but it seemed right, haha). </p><p>As for a song that does correlate: TALK ME DOWN by Troye Sivan! </p><p>The original prompt: Harry and Louis dated but Louis obviously did something to piss off the universe because years later, Harry ends up being the wedding planner for Louis’ marriage that anyone can clearly see he doesn’t want. Harry starts planning Louis’ wedding based off of how Harry used to describe to Louis what he imagined their wedding to be like.</p><p>I took a few liberties with the prompt (most notably by adding mpreg) but I hope it lived up to the initial intent!</p><p>Find me at:</p><p><a href="https://twitter.com/falsegoodnight">twitter</a> | <a href="http://falsegoodnight.tumblr.com">tumblr</a> | <a href="https://falsegoodnight.tumblr.com/post/640136451634429952/feeling-borrowed-always-blue-explicit-68k">fic post</a> | <a href="https://falsegoodnight.tumblr.com/post/631971376909205504/feeling-borrowed-always-blue-louis-has-been">fic trailer</a></p><p>Feel free to reach out or say hi! Or send me an ask on <a href="https://curiouscat.me/falsegoodnight">cc</a> with your thoughts!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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